december 3, 2011
Indifferent At Their Plight Will the blatant discrimination against Muslims in the administration of justice ever end?
T
he word secular was inserted into the Preamble of the Indian Constitution by the 42nd amendment in 1976; later on, the Supreme Court, in S R Bommai vs Union of India, held (in 1994) that secularism was an integral part of the basic structure of the Constitution. And yet, it has been a long time coming – Indian civil society and the state should have been infused with secularism decades ago, but tragically, their veins and tissues are largely bereft of it even today, and consequently, of its healing properties. After every terrorist attack, or even in anticipation of a terrorist assault, the security apparatus, conditioned like “Pavlov’s dogs”, picks up a couple of Muslim youth, even when there is no evidence worth the name, either bumps them off in a fake encounter, dubbing them “terrorists”, or alternatively, puts them in the locker, tortures them to manufacture the “evidence”, ..., dumps them in gaol for years on end as prisonerson-trial. It has been a cynical and discriminatory targeting of innocent Muslims, all in the name of “national security”. But are the chickens now coming home to roost? The Special Investigation Team (SIT), appointed by the Gujarat High Court to probe the veracity of the official claim that Ishrat Jahan and three others, ostensibly on a mission to assassinate Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi, were shot dead in an encounter carried out by the Ahmedabad crime branch led by D G Vanzara on 15 June 2004, has concluded that the four were murdered in cold blood. An earlier judicial inquiry of September 2009 by the Ahmedabad metropolitan magistrate S P Tamang had also come to the same conclusion. Clearly, a fresh FIR under Section 302 (murder) should be filed. Vanzara and the other perpetrators of the cold-blooded murder are the minions of Gujarat’s proto-fascist chief minister, Narendra Modi. Their impending trial under Section 302 is indeed a heartening development. The other comforting turn of events has been the grant of bail to nine Muslim youth accused in the 2006 Malegaon bomb blast case, five years after they were arrested and jailed. Both Hemant Karkare (head of Maharashtra’s Anti-Terrorism Squad who was killed in the 2008 Mumbai terrorist attacks) and Shahid Azmi (a lawyer and human rights activist whose work centred on seeking to redress the injustices suffered by Muslim youth falsely implicated in criminal cases but whose life was cut short when he was killed on 11 February 2010 in Mumbai) would have been very pleased. On 8 September 2006, in Malegaon, a town in the Nashik district of Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
Maharashtra, bomb explosions killed 37 persons and injured many more in a cemetery adjacent to a mosque at around 13:15 hours (local time) after the Friday prayers on the occasion of Shab-eBara’at. The nine Muslim youth were falsely implicated in the case and had to spend the next five years in jail, bearing not only the hardships and pain that go with such confinement, but both the indignity and torture that are routinely meted out to such captives who are grossly discriminated against on the basis of their religion. It is utterly outrageous. How could devout Muslims, those who rigorously abide by the timings of the namaz, kill their fellow brethren – that too, on the day of Shab-e-Bara’at – in order to provoke a Hindu-Muslim riot? But these are the kind of charge sheets that are taken seriously by the courts, and serve the purpose of keeping the victims in jail for years. It was the so-called hriday parivartan (change of heart) on the part of Swami Aseemanand, a significant conspirator in the Hindutva terror network, and his confession in December last year of the planning of the terror attacks at Malegaon (8 September 2006), on the Samjhauta Express (18 February 2007), at Hyderabad’s Mecca Masjid (18 May 2007) and at Ajmer Sharif (on 11 October 2011 outside the dargah of the Sufi saint Moinuddin Chisti) by members of the Sangh parivar that forced a change of course in the investigation. The swami has since retracted his statement, but his confession has provided certain leads and it is now up to the National Investigation Agency (NIA) to uncover as to who planted the bombs in the cemetery and under whose direction. Interestingly, it was the investigation led by Hemant Karkare into the 29 September 2008 Malegaon bomb blasts that uncovered evidence of the involvement of Hindutva terrorists. If those leads had been pursued with the same degree of professionalism and integrity, the Hindutva terrorists would have been exposed sooner. The Hindutvadis, of course, called Karkare a “traitor to the nation”. The NIA, which is now in charge of the investigation into the 2006 Malegaon bomb blasts, will have to file its status report, and Hindutvadis such as Sadhvi Pragya Singh Thakur and lt col Srikant Purohit will figure as part of the accused. Aseemanand has named a number of co-conspirators; among them is Indresh Kumar, who is said to be a national executive committee member and sahprachar pramukh of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS). Now, given the fact that the RSS is a hierarchically structured authoritarian organisation, the creation of the
7
EDITORIALS
indutva terror network could have possibly been clandestinely H sanctioned at the very apex of the outfit. But given the wretched politics of expedience being practised by the Congress Party and its utterly cynical and discriminatory targeting of innocent Muslims in the name of “national security”, one cannot be very hopeful about when truth and justice will come to prevail. The blatant discrimination against Muslims in the administration of justice that we are
witnessing is a national disgrace. Indeed, it makes a mockery of the tall claims about the country’s secular credentials. Tragically, apart from a few honourable exceptions, the majority of the social networks that comprise Indian civil society have displayed near total apathy. Even the civil liberties and democratic rights movement has remained largely indifferent to the plight of young Muslims at the hands of the security apparatus.
Defamation and Its Real Dangers Media freedom is not restricted by one law but by collusion between economic and political power and big media.
T
he defamation case filed in a Pune court by former Press Council chairman justice P B Sawant has drawn attention to the criminal law of defamation and whether it restricts the freedom of the press. Justice Sawant was awarded Rs 100 crore in exemplary damages in the case he filed against Times Now TV channel. On 10 September 2008, the television channel had flashed a photograph of justice Sawant in a news item relating to the Ghaziabad provident fund scam, instead of Calcutta High Court’s justice P K Samanta who was implicated in the case. When the retired judge sent the channel a legal notice on 15 September, it realised its mistake. Several days later, on 23 September, it issued an apology scroll, which ran five times. Not satisfied with this response, justice Sawant went ahead and filed the case. To make matters worse for Times Now, its appeal in the Bombay High Court was admitted on condition that it deposit Rs 100 crore – Rs 20 crore in cash and the rest as bank guarantee – with the court and its further appeal against this precondition was turned down by the Supreme Court. Whether Times Now’s action was defamatory or not will now be decided in the Bombay High Court. But of significance to the media are the conclusions drawn from the Pune court’s order. Media bodies like the Editors Guild of India and the Indian Newspaper Society have called the amount awarded in damages excessive and interpreted this as a serious intrusion into the freedom of the press. While the voices of those sympathetic to Times Now have found ample space in the media – after all, a powerful media house is involved – the real issues in this particular case and on the question of media freedom in general have been somewhat obscured. For instance, the dominant narrative heard in the media suggests that justice Sawant sued Times Now even after it had apologised. The fact is that justice Sawant sent a notice to Times Now well before it finally apologised. Second, the orders of the Bombay High Court and the Supreme Court are being interpreted as vindictive when lawyers have repeatedly stressed that the requirement of 20% of the amount awarded in damages being deposited before an appeal is admitted is an established norm. And, finally, whether such a large amount in damages will make news organisations overtly cautious and thereby restrict their freedom is an issue where the discussion has not moved beyond the apparent unfairness of the size of the award. Yet the Sawant case speaks to the carelessness of the media when it comes to protecting the reputation of people about whom they report. Even if one argues that his response to what Times Now
8
claims was an inadvertent mistake is exaggerated, the fact remains that justice Sawant was in a position to fight back unlike thousands of ordinary people who would also like to challenge media organisations but are unable to do so. Another equally significant aspect of the debate that has found no place is the power of corporate media houses to use the same law to suppress criticism or information about their corporate sponsors. For example, the media house to which the Times Now channel belongs, has used Section 66A in the IT Act on defamation through the internet and electronic media on at least two occasions to do precisely this. In 2005, Mediaah, an independent media blog run by a journalist, was forced to close when the Times group sent it a legal notice demanding withdrawal of several critical items from the blog. Unable to fight a legal battle, the journalist thought it better to shut shop. Last month, independent media website The Hoot received a notice from the Times group after an article commented critically on Times Now’s coverage of the attack on Supreme Court lawyer Prashant Bhushan. The article had to be taken off the site and the editor had to issue an apology and clarification. Once again, the decision to bend was because the website was not in a position to fight a protracted legal battle. Not just powerful media houses, but corporates too have used the defamation provision to ensure that critical voices are not heard. In 2009, Fomento Industries in Goa filed a Rs 500 crore suit against anti-mining activist Seby Rodrigues in the Calcutta High Court for what he wrote on his blog. Rodrigues has been forced to spend his meagre resources to travel between Goa and Kolkata to fight the case. Such a tactic, termed SLAPP (Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation), is used repeatedly by corporates against activists. There should be a debate on the defamation law. But the debate needs to address the way it is used by the powerful to suppress dissent and information. It needs to look at the way investigative articles exposing, for instance, environmental violations by business houses, are withdrawn because editors choose to be cautious rather than get entangled in legal battles. It needs to ask why there is a sameness in media content and an absence of strongly critical voices that are essential in a free press within a democracy. It needs to interrogate the convergence of interests between big business and big media and the State. Freedom of the press is not threatened just by one law. It is in danger when there is collusion between those with economic and political power and the media. december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
EDITORIALS
indutva terror network could have possibly been clandestinely H sanctioned at the very apex of the outfit. But given the wretched politics of expedience being practised by the Congress Party and its utterly cynical and discriminatory targeting of innocent Muslims in the name of “national security”, one cannot be very hopeful about when truth and justice will come to prevail. The blatant discrimination against Muslims in the administration of justice that we are
witnessing is a national disgrace. Indeed, it makes a mockery of the tall claims about the country’s secular credentials. Tragically, apart from a few honourable exceptions, the majority of the social networks that comprise Indian civil society have displayed near total apathy. Even the civil liberties and democratic rights movement has remained largely indifferent to the plight of young Muslims at the hands of the security apparatus.
Defamation and Its Real Dangers Media freedom is not restricted by one law but by collusion between economic and political power and big media.
T
he defamation case filed in a Pune court by former Press Council chairman justice P B Sawant has drawn attention to the criminal law of defamation and whether it restricts the freedom of the press. Justice Sawant was awarded Rs 100 crore in exemplary damages in the case he filed against Times Now TV channel. On 10 September 2008, the television channel had flashed a photograph of justice Sawant in a news item relating to the Ghaziabad provident fund scam, instead of Calcutta High Court’s justice P K Samanta who was implicated in the case. When the retired judge sent the channel a legal notice on 15 September, it realised its mistake. Several days later, on 23 September, it issued an apology scroll, which ran five times. Not satisfied with this response, justice Sawant went ahead and filed the case. To make matters worse for Times Now, its appeal in the Bombay High Court was admitted on condition that it deposit Rs 100 crore – Rs 20 crore in cash and the rest as bank guarantee – with the court and its further appeal against this precondition was turned down by the Supreme Court. Whether Times Now’s action was defamatory or not will now be decided in the Bombay High Court. But of significance to the media are the conclusions drawn from the Pune court’s order. Media bodies like the Editors Guild of India and the Indian Newspaper Society have called the amount awarded in damages excessive and interpreted this as a serious intrusion into the freedom of the press. While the voices of those sympathetic to Times Now have found ample space in the media – after all, a powerful media house is involved – the real issues in this particular case and on the question of media freedom in general have been somewhat obscured. For instance, the dominant narrative heard in the media suggests that justice Sawant sued Times Now even after it had apologised. The fact is that justice Sawant sent a notice to Times Now well before it finally apologised. Second, the orders of the Bombay High Court and the Supreme Court are being interpreted as vindictive when lawyers have repeatedly stressed that the requirement of 20% of the amount awarded in damages being deposited before an appeal is admitted is an established norm. And, finally, whether such a large amount in damages will make news organisations overtly cautious and thereby restrict their freedom is an issue where the discussion has not moved beyond the apparent unfairness of the size of the award. Yet the Sawant case speaks to the carelessness of the media when it comes to protecting the reputation of people about whom they report. Even if one argues that his response to what Times Now
8
claims was an inadvertent mistake is exaggerated, the fact remains that justice Sawant was in a position to fight back unlike thousands of ordinary people who would also like to challenge media organisations but are unable to do so. Another equally significant aspect of the debate that has found no place is the power of corporate media houses to use the same law to suppress criticism or information about their corporate sponsors. For example, the media house to which the Times Now channel belongs, has used Section 66A in the IT Act on defamation through the internet and electronic media on at least two occasions to do precisely this. In 2005, Mediaah, an independent media blog run by a journalist, was forced to close when the Times group sent it a legal notice demanding withdrawal of several critical items from the blog. Unable to fight a legal battle, the journalist thought it better to shut shop. Last month, independent media website The Hoot received a notice from the Times group after an article commented critically on Times Now’s coverage of the attack on Supreme Court lawyer Prashant Bhushan. The article had to be taken off the site and the editor had to issue an apology and clarification. Once again, the decision to bend was because the website was not in a position to fight a protracted legal battle. Not just powerful media houses, but corporates too have used the defamation provision to ensure that critical voices are not heard. In 2009, Fomento Industries in Goa filed a Rs 500 crore suit against anti-mining activist Seby Rodrigues in the Calcutta High Court for what he wrote on his blog. Rodrigues has been forced to spend his meagre resources to travel between Goa and Kolkata to fight the case. Such a tactic, termed SLAPP (Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation), is used repeatedly by corporates against activists. There should be a debate on the defamation law. But the debate needs to address the way it is used by the powerful to suppress dissent and information. It needs to look at the way investigative articles exposing, for instance, environmental violations by business houses, are withdrawn because editors choose to be cautious rather than get entangled in legal battles. It needs to ask why there is a sameness in media content and an absence of strongly critical voices that are essential in a free press within a democracy. It needs to interrogate the convergence of interests between big business and big media and the State. Freedom of the press is not threatened just by one law. It is in danger when there is collusion between those with economic and political power and the media. december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
EDITORIALS
Reorganisation or Grandstanding? Irrespective of its merits, Mayawati’s initiative to break up Uttar Pradesh is only a political ploy.
T
here is an administrative case for the creation of smaller states out of behemoths but Uttar Pradesh (UP) Chief Minister Mayawati’s initiative to split India’s biggest state into four seems to have been made solely with an eye on the 2012 assembly polls. True, this is not a new demand by Mayawati. It was first made in the mid-1990s when she was in power for a brief while and then again in 2009 after the centre’s half-decision to create Telangana. (The proposal in 2009 was to split UP into three, not four, separate states.) However, the resolution last month by the state cabinet, which was followed by one that was rammed through the state assembly without discussion, calling for a four-part division into Paschim Pradesh, Awadh, Bundelkhand and Purvanchal strangely has no regional demand backing it up apart from a near dormant demand for Harit Pradesh (now proposed as Paschim Pradesh by the UP cabinet). Unlike what drove the creation of Jharkhand, Uttarakhand and Chhattisgarh or the current movement for Telangana, Darjeeling and even Vidarbha, there is virtually no significant sociopolitical movement or demand in UP for its break-up into three or four small states. Whatever Mayawati’s reasons, the logic of carving out smaller states from UP has some merit. As early as 1955, States Reorganisation Commission (SRC) member K M Panikkar wrote a dissent note to the commission’s report arguing for the division of the state as its size would hinder administrative efficiency and development. He had also warned that a large UP would have an undue influence in national politics. Both warnings seem to have been prophetic. Regions in the east and south of UP continue to be underdeveloped as compared to the relatively well-off west, and the state as a whole has fallen far behind most of the others. At the same time, UP’s politicians have had a major role in national politics that has been based on numbers rather than the strength of their ideology. The aphorism “Whoever delivers UP in the national elections rules India” held true until the early 1990s though this is no longer the case. The 85 Members of Parliament in the Lok Sabha from the preUttarakhand state of UP formed a strong bloc for the Congress Party for close to four decades and then briefly provided the Bharatiya Janata Party with its core representation as well. The
From 50 Years Ago
Vol Xiii, No 48, december 2, 1961
editorials
Amending Air Corporations Act Whoever in the Communications Ministry had authorised Kalinga Airways to run a regular passenger service between Bombay and Baroda must be in a soup, indeed. To retrace its steps and also to save its face, the Ministry
Samajwadi Party now opposes a split for precisely this reason – it believes this would reduce the state’s standing in national politics. The need for better administrative efficiency to address chronic underdevelopment seems to be the most compelling reason for the break-up of UP. However, the formation of new and smaller states has not necessarily meant better administration or efficiency of governance, even if it has brought in a sociopolitical coherence and representation in decision-making bodies for the hitherto marginalised such as the Garhwalis of Uttarakhand and adivasis of Jharkhand. There is a consensus though that state reorganisation should be based on size, linguistic-cultural cohesion, economic viability and indeed the presence of a legitimate demand for such a new entity. And that the final decision must depend on the merits of each case. Mayawati has endeavoured to add a regional dimension to the “caste combination” support base her party has assiduously built over the years. She has reached out to the upper castes – the brahmins in particular – but that base is now under threat because of disenchantment with her government’s performance during her current term in office. Mayawati’s proposal of a new state for each of four regions must be seen as an attempt to shift the agenda for the next election from governance to fulfilling (unknown) regional aspirations. But it is doubtful if by raising regional expectations the Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) can really reap a political dividend. The demand for Paschim Pradesh will help not the BSP but the Rashtriya Lok Dal which is strong in the area and has championed the cause. And since the demand for new states is weak or non-existent elsewhere in the state, there may be little for the BSP to convert into electoral support. It could be argued that this is merely a ploy by Mayawati to undercut the Congress, which is re-emerging as a political force in the state. Since it is ultimately the union government that must agree to any regional reordering and introduce a constitutional amendment bill in Parliament for the purpose, Mayawati’s proclamations effectively put the onus on the Congress to take the important decision on division of UP. Indeed, the UP government’s cabinet decision has got the Congress to talk again about a second SRC, but hopefully this time it will not remain lip service.
is doing a number of things at the same time. First, the permit given to Kalinga is being withdrawn and Indian Airlines is to take its place and include Baroda on one of its routes… From published reports all that one can gather is that there is a crippling shortage of aircraft on the Calcutta-Assam and CalcuttaTripura routes, and the shortage is naturally much greater for freight – air being the only form of transport both for men and goods to Tripura and, very largely so, at least for passengers for Assam. Indian Airlines have not been able to keep up the supply of aircraft needed to move goods on that side. It would be surprising considering the demand and profitability
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
of non-scheduled operations, that there would be much idle aircraft capacity in the country. There would be no harm in utilising such capacity wherever it may exist. But that is not, however, the way in which the Communications Ministry has been looking at the problem. There is an interesting side issue. How did the Indian Airlines come to replace Kalinga on this Baroda route? It is reported – and there is no reason to disbelieve the report – that the Indian Airlines Corporation lodged a protest when this route was given to Kalinga and, finally, got it for its own. This goes to show that in the Communications Ministry the right-hand does not know what the left-hand has been doing.
9
EDITORIALS
Reorganisation or Grandstanding? Irrespective of its merits, Mayawati’s initiative to break up Uttar Pradesh is only a political ploy.
T
here is an administrative case for the creation of smaller states out of behemoths but Uttar Pradesh (UP) Chief Minister Mayawati’s initiative to split India’s biggest state into four seems to have been made solely with an eye on the 2012 assembly polls. True, this is not a new demand by Mayawati. It was first made in the mid-1990s when she was in power for a brief while and then again in 2009 after the centre’s half-decision to create Telangana. (The proposal in 2009 was to split UP into three, not four, separate states.) However, the resolution last month by the state cabinet, which was followed by one that was rammed through the state assembly without discussion, calling for a four-part division into Paschim Pradesh, Awadh, Bundelkhand and Purvanchal strangely has no regional demand backing it up apart from a near dormant demand for Harit Pradesh (now proposed as Paschim Pradesh by the UP cabinet). Unlike what drove the creation of Jharkhand, Uttarakhand and Chhattisgarh or the current movement for Telangana, Darjeeling and even Vidarbha, there is virtually no significant sociopolitical movement or demand in UP for its break-up into three or four small states. Whatever Mayawati’s reasons, the logic of carving out smaller states from UP has some merit. As early as 1955, States Reorganisation Commission (SRC) member K M Panikkar wrote a dissent note to the commission’s report arguing for the division of the state as its size would hinder administrative efficiency and development. He had also warned that a large UP would have an undue influence in national politics. Both warnings seem to have been prophetic. Regions in the east and south of UP continue to be underdeveloped as compared to the relatively well-off west, and the state as a whole has fallen far behind most of the others. At the same time, UP’s politicians have had a major role in national politics that has been based on numbers rather than the strength of their ideology. The aphorism “Whoever delivers UP in the national elections rules India” held true until the early 1990s though this is no longer the case. The 85 Members of Parliament in the Lok Sabha from the preUttarakhand state of UP formed a strong bloc for the Congress Party for close to four decades and then briefly provided the Bharatiya Janata Party with its core representation as well. The
From 50 Years Ago
Vol Xiii, No 48, december 2, 1961
editorials
Amending Air Corporations Act Whoever in the Communications Ministry had authorised Kalinga Airways to run a regular passenger service between Bombay and Baroda must be in a soup, indeed. To retrace its steps and also to save its face, the Ministry
Samajwadi Party now opposes a split for precisely this reason – it believes this would reduce the state’s standing in national politics. The need for better administrative efficiency to address chronic underdevelopment seems to be the most compelling reason for the break-up of UP. However, the formation of new and smaller states has not necessarily meant better administration or efficiency of governance, even if it has brought in a sociopolitical coherence and representation in decision-making bodies for the hitherto marginalised such as the Garhwalis of Uttarakhand and adivasis of Jharkhand. There is a consensus though that state reorganisation should be based on size, linguistic-cultural cohesion, economic viability and indeed the presence of a legitimate demand for such a new entity. And that the final decision must depend on the merits of each case. Mayawati has endeavoured to add a regional dimension to the “caste combination” support base her party has assiduously built over the years. She has reached out to the upper castes – the brahmins in particular – but that base is now under threat because of disenchantment with her government’s performance during her current term in office. Mayawati’s proposal of a new state for each of four regions must be seen as an attempt to shift the agenda for the next election from governance to fulfilling (unknown) regional aspirations. But it is doubtful if by raising regional expectations the Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) can really reap a political dividend. The demand for Paschim Pradesh will help not the BSP but the Rashtriya Lok Dal which is strong in the area and has championed the cause. And since the demand for new states is weak or non-existent elsewhere in the state, there may be little for the BSP to convert into electoral support. It could be argued that this is merely a ploy by Mayawati to undercut the Congress, which is re-emerging as a political force in the state. Since it is ultimately the union government that must agree to any regional reordering and introduce a constitutional amendment bill in Parliament for the purpose, Mayawati’s proclamations effectively put the onus on the Congress to take the important decision on division of UP. Indeed, the UP government’s cabinet decision has got the Congress to talk again about a second SRC, but hopefully this time it will not remain lip service.
is doing a number of things at the same time. First, the permit given to Kalinga is being withdrawn and Indian Airlines is to take its place and include Baroda on one of its routes… From published reports all that one can gather is that there is a crippling shortage of aircraft on the Calcutta-Assam and CalcuttaTripura routes, and the shortage is naturally much greater for freight – air being the only form of transport both for men and goods to Tripura and, very largely so, at least for passengers for Assam. Indian Airlines have not been able to keep up the supply of aircraft needed to move goods on that side. It would be surprising considering the demand and profitability
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
of non-scheduled operations, that there would be much idle aircraft capacity in the country. There would be no harm in utilising such capacity wherever it may exist. But that is not, however, the way in which the Communications Ministry has been looking at the problem. There is an interesting side issue. How did the Indian Airlines come to replace Kalinga on this Baroda route? It is reported – and there is no reason to disbelieve the report – that the Indian Airlines Corporation lodged a protest when this route was given to Kalinga and, finally, got it for its own. This goes to show that in the Communications Ministry the right-hand does not know what the left-hand has been doing.
9
commentary
Environmental Movement in Dahanu: Competing Pulls Michelle Chawla, Geetanjoy Sahu
The environmental campaign in Dahanu near Mumbai against the capacity MW plant started in the 1980s and ultimately led to the setting up of the Dahanu Taluka Environment Protection Authority. Even as competing lobbies continue to push for the de-notification of its status as an ecologically fragile region and removal of the Dahanu Authority the environmentalists walk a tight rope attempting to protect the natural resource base of the region.
Michelle Chawla (
[email protected]) is an independent researcher and founder of Tamarind Tree, Dahanu. Geetanjoy Sahu (
[email protected]) is with the School of Habitat Studies, Tata Institute of Social Sciences, Mumbai.
10
M
odernity’s perception of an “ecologically fragile” region quite often discounts the strain on the social fabric caused by the sustained notions of distributive justice. The language articulating the politics of conservation sometimes hides the ideas of social equality that it inadvertently compromises. These tendencies have thrown up seemingly complex contradictions, which are dominating the discourse over social ecology, development and ethnicity. Dahanu, a western Indian town located on the margins of the neo-liberal economic tide, is a microcosm of this phenomenon. The town dreams of an explosion of the market economy and yet it is not willing to give up its tranquil lifestyle. It wants to embrace the consumerist world view but narrates stories of the ecological wisdom of the Warlis, a tribe that symbolises the cultural milieu of the region. Situated a mere 120 kms north of Mumbai, Dahanu is today at crossroads – ecologically, socially, culturally. Sandwiched between the chemical corridors of Vapi, Gujarat, to the north and the industrialised zones of Palghar-Boisar to the south, it remains one of the last surviving green zones in this region. One amongst 15 talukas of Thane district in the Konkan division of Maharashtra, Dahanu is known as the fruit and food bowl of the region. Home to a predominant adivasi community of Warlis forming 64.84% of the total population of 3,31,829 lakh (Census 2001), Dahanu also has a large fishing and farming community. With a total of 174 villages and only one municipal area, the main source of livelihood is agriculture and its allied activities. Historically, Dahanu has witnessed tribal resistance movements for land and forest rights led by the left and is even now considered a bastion of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) – CPI(M). The region
has also seen the spread of non-party political formations like the Bhoomi Sena and the Kashtkari Sanghatana, who have spearheaded the campaign for the effective implementation of the Forest Rights Act. Simultaneously, over the last two and a half decades, Dahanu has seen a growing environmental consciousness visible through the enviro-legal campaign led by the richer farmers that has resulted in the notification of Dahanu as an ecologically fragile region in 1991. This notification has now put Dahanu on the national map with nine other regions. A strict legal regime then succeeded in derailing large-scale industrialisation and managed to retain the agricultural and horticultural land use of the region. However whether the battle for ecological equity inevitably compromises opportunities for economic development is a question the communities of Dahanu have grappled with for over a decade. While there may be no simple answers, Dahanu’s communities live in a paradoxical reality. Even as the environmental movement has sheltered them from the hazards of unregulated industrialisation, it has been unable to provide an alternative viable reality, while restricting many of the benefits of the modern economy. Moreover, the battle for the conservation of natural resources and livelihoods has been heavily polarised, with the tribal rights groups, primarily the CPi(M) deman ding the de-notification of Dahanu’s ecofragile status, even as the environmental groups battle hard to prevent this. The antagonism to the environmental movement is not restricted to the tribal rights group but extends to disgruntled builders, commercial interests and politicians throwing up complex configurations in Dahanu society. In this article, we trace the development of the environmental campaign in Dahanu town which started against the thermal power plant in the 1980s and highlight the key factors that sustained the movement over the last two decades. We analyse the various com peting demands and positions of the different social groups while also high lighting the contradictions in the environmental campaign.
december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
commentary
Historically the struggle for minimum wages, land rights, and forest rights by the adivasis had dominated the discourse of the region. The period from 1945 to 1947 where the All India Kisan Sabha under the banner of the CPI mobilised the Warlis on the issue of land rights led by Godavari and Shyamlal Parulekar is well documented. The region’s struggle for control over natural resources also came to the fore with the rise of social movements such as the Bhoomi Sena and Kashtkari Sanghatana in the late 1970s that took up the battle on behalf of the adivasi community. While many of these conflicts centred on access and rights over natural resources of land and forest, they were not necessarily articulated in the language of environmental discourse. It was only in the late 1980s, following opposition to the setting up of a thermal power plant that an environmental campaign focused upon conservation and protection emerged in Dahanu. The environmental campaign started in 1989 with opposition to a proposal to set up a 500 megawatt (MW) coal fired power plant in Dahanu to power the growing megapolis of Mumbai, given its proximity to the city. Predominantly a tribal and agricultural belt, a few orchard owners were alarmed by the possible adverse effects on the region and began campaigning against the thermal power plant. While they lost the case against the power plant in the Mumbai High Court, in 1991, they continued to push for Dahanu’s protection. The Ministry of Environment and Forests (MoEF) utilising a clause in the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986 recognised the tribal culture, marine and horticultural wealth of the region and passed a landmark notification declaring Dahanu ecologically fragile in June 1991. It said, the Central Government, in consultation with the Government of Maharashtra, after considering the need for protecting the ecologically sensitive Dahanu Taluka, and to ensure that the development activities are consistent with principles of environmental protection and conservation, hereby declare Dahanu taluka, district Thane (Maharashtra) as an ecologically fragile area and to impose restrictions on the setting up of industries which have a detrimental effect on the environment.1
The notification specifically restricted the setting up of industries to a limit of
500 acres. It classified industries into red, orange and green categories on ecological considerations, disallowing the red category. It also significantly stipulated “no change in land use” while directing the state government to prepare a regional plan demarcating all green areas, orchards, tribal areas and other environmentally sensitive ones. It is also important to mention here that Dahanu was classified as Coastal Regulation Zone (CRZ) I (i), under the Indian Coastal Regulation Zone by the MoEF way back in February 1991.2 The CRZ bans any new construction and development activities within 500 metres of the high tide line. This was a landmark achieve ment in the environmental campaign. For the business and commercial community in Dahanu along with representatives of some political parties, the notification became an obstacle to accessing the booming modern economy. Over the last decade, they played a key role in blaming the notification and the environmental laws for Dahanu’s slow-paced development. The Dahanu Industries Association was one of the first to react negatively to the notification and petitioned the Mumbai High Court against it. They claimed that there was no public debate or engagement on the issue of development of Dahanu. Even though they lost the case in the court, the proponents of development feel cheated by the notification. The frustrations of the local business and political interests also came from the fact that environmental norms could no longer be bypassed. Permissions and procedures for Dahanu became legal and lengthy and local politicians did not have the liberty to sanction projects and proposals. Meanwhile the town planning department kept drafting development plans for Dahanu which were illegal and in contravention of the Dahanu notification and CRZ. Ironically, Dahanu’s development plan intended for a 20-year period from 1996-2026 is yet to be sanctioned. In the interim 15 years, urban development continues in a haphazard and very often illegal manner. Along with disgruntled commercial interests, political parties like the CPI(M) actively demonstrated against the notification, claiming that the tribal community would suffer due to lack of employment opportunities. However, the
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reality is that there is no blanket ban on industries. The notification provides guide lines for the setting up of industries stating that “only those industries that are non-obnoxious, non-hazardous and do not discharge industrial effluents of a polluting nature will be permitted”. Moreover, the indicative list of red category industries includes refineries, cement plants, petrochemical industries, sugar mills, etc, reflecting that the notification protects the area from industrial pollution and does not restrict development. A form of environmentalism that was not led from the ground had its limitations. It was critical to get wider support from the community. Moreover, had an atmosphere of public debate been created to dispel the incorrect interpretations of the notification, the community may have felt assured that development of many sectors such as information technology, food processing, ecotourism were open.
Supreme Court-Appointed Authority While the notification was based on the philosophy of appropriate utilisation of natural resources, conservation and planned development, the interpretation of development was very different for the bureaucracy and institutions that were implementing it. Unable to see any value in such a notification, given that rapid economic growth and industrialisation were the mantras, development continued in violation of the notification in the period from 1991 to 1994. The state government and institutions like the Maharashtra Pollution Control Board that had the responsibility of protecting Dahanu were acting in contravention of the Dahanu and CRZ notification. They granted permission to prohibited industries and to buildings along the sea coast. Additionally, they drafted a regional plan for Dahanu that promoted urbanisation and industrialisation against the spirit of the notification. The environmentalists were unhappy with these violations and contested them in the form of a writ petition in the Supreme Court in 1994.3 The case ended in 1996, with a landmark order that resulted in the setting up of a quasi judicial authority, the Dahanu Taluka Environment Protection Authority (hereafter the Authority)
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headed by retired chief justice of Mumbai High Court, justice C S Dharmadhikari with a team of experts from diverse fields such as urban planning, terrestrial ecology, oceanography and environmental engineering.4 The Dahanu Authority’s role was to oversee that the development of the ecologically fragile region was in consonance with the Dahanu notification and other relevant legislations. Since its inception in 1996, it has played a significant role in steering the development of Dahanu by scrutinising and deciding on large projects, developing innovative schemes for afforestation, ensuring that the thermal power plant controls its emissions and taking to task unplanned and illegal development. With a mandate to protect the ecology, natural resources and livelihoods of a region, the Authority has for a period of 10 years been more than just a watchdog institution. Recognising the ecological politics of control over natural resources, the Authority has unwaveringly stood by the principles of social justice and equitable rights for local communities. With its landmark orders, it has contributed to the environmental discourse in India. Considered a quasi judicial body, it has functioned like a peoples’ court, responding to local environmental complaints and problems. Through a process of hearings, it has been able to discuss and debate issues in a democratic manner, holding both public and private institutions accountable. Notably, through a series of hearings it rejected the siting of a multi-berth industrial port proposed by global giant P&O at Vadhavan village in Dahanu in 1998. Additionally, the thermal power plant (owned by Reliance Energy) was forced to install a Flue Gas Desulphurisation (FGD) Plant, a pollution control device to reduce sulphur emissions, after the Dahanu Authority demanded a bank guarantee of Rs 300 crore from the company. The unit was finally commissioned in October 2007, the culmination of a decade long campaign. Expert members of the Authority visit the plant regularly for inspection. The setting up of the Authority consolidated the environmental movement, but further polarised Dahanu society. While it may have been easy to bypass the notification, the Authority stood its ground. Government officials were grilled at the meetings
12
and elected representatives had no choice but to acknowledge the institution. However the Authority, functioning out of Mumbai, has been unable to fully integrate into mainstream Dahanu society. A local presence in Dahanu where people are able to engage on issues could have avoided much of the face-off that exists even today. It would have created the space for participation and engagement on the contentious environment versus development debate. Consequently, concerted efforts were made to disband the Dahanu Authority. In 2003, a special committee was constituted to ascertain if Dahanu could be considered eco-fragile. This committee held a large public hearing in Dahanu with the aim of determining the views of the people. However, the meeting was conducted by local commercial interests and politicians, who asserted that the Dahanu notification was a major stumbling block to development in the region, and that it should be withdrawn. Misrepresenting the notification to claim that even a flour mill was not permitted in the area, the committee created an atmosphere that projected a collective opposition to the notification and the functioning of the Authority. Since its very inception, the Maharashtra government has also been hostile to the notification.5 The state government seems insincere about implementing the ecofragile notification. Surprisingly, in January 2002, the MoEF which should be protecting Dahanu and other eco-fragile areas, filed an application in the Supreme Court demanding an end to the Authority on the grounds that it had already completed its work. The ministry claimed that it needs a single authority to monitor all eco-fragile areas. The environmentalists fought this application at the Supreme
Court and in January 2004, the application was dismissed.
Emerging Trends and Concerns The impact of environmental restrictions on the resource-dependent communities that form the majority in Dahanu is not so clearly apparent to all, and it will be interesting to study those. Topographically, Dahanu taluka can be divided into a 10-12 kmwide bandarpatti (the coastal belt) of lowlands and flats extending from the sea coast to the railway line situated at the foot of the Sahyadri range. The junglepatti (forest belt) which is to the east of the railway line is a belt of approximately 20-25 km that runs parallel to the coast at a distance of 15 km from the shore. The entire coastal belt with its rich natural resources, wetlands, mangroves and river deltas, forms a lucrative fishing area. With a coastline of 35 km, fishing is an important economic activity of the region. The Thane District Gazetteer (1982) describes Dahanu as one of the five most important fishing centres along the coast of Maharashtra with 21 fishing hamlets and seven fish landing centres. Along with the notification, Dahanu’s coasts were classified under the most stringent clause of the CRZ [CRZ I (i)] 1991 that did not permit any development 500 metres from the high tide line. This led to a protective cover being cast around Dahanu’s coast, shielding it from the acquisitive reaches of commercial tourism and land-grabbers. Other than the thermal plant situated in the creek, there is no other major development activity on the coast that could directly affect fishing. Over the last decade, construction of new projects that violate both the notification and the CRZ have been brought before the authority and resolved. One of the most
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significant cases was the setting up of a multi-berth industrial port by global giant P&O in the coastal village of Vadhavan in 1997. The entire coastline of Dahanu with its fishing communities was threatened by this proposal which involved the acquisition of large tracts of land. For the first time, the environmental campaign became broad-based, with fisherfolk, local farmers, and non-governmental organisations like the Dahanu Taluka Environment Welfare Association (DTEWA), as well as the Kashtkari Sanghatana joining in the campaign against the port. The Dahanu Authority held a series of hearings with activists, communities and the company and passed a landmark order in 1998 that the port could not be permitted in ecologically fragile Dahanu. The environmental regime, along with civil society action, was able to prevent the setting up of a large industry that would have destroyed the coast and its communities. However, a decade later, the residents of many fishing villages are struggling to live off the natural resources. Changing aspirations and a consumerist economy have made the traditional occupation a last resort for the younger generations. The fishing community continues to benefit from the restrictions of the notification. How ever, the bigger challenge is to create sustainable and economically viable alter natives in a rapidly changing economy and a constantly evolving community. It is also important to point out that Dahanu has the third largest area (47,606 ha) under forest amongst the 15 talukas of Thane district (Regional Plan 1996-2015). The proportion of forest area to total geographical area is 45.91%, making it the predominant land use of the region (estimates provided by Deputy Conservator of Forests, Dahanu division). A large part of the adivasi community resides in this zone, in remote, almost inaccessible, villages. In spite of a rich history of resistance, the adivasis are today either marginal farmers or work as daily wage labourers in orchards, brick kilns, or on boats earning a wage of Rs 50-80 a day, struggling to live off their slowly eroding forests. Many migrate for several months of the year to nearby places for work. It can be safely assumed that the entire tribal population is below the poverty line (BPL) in Dahanu given that
the figure of BPL families is as high as 69% which is approximately the population figure of the region. Members of the Kashtkari Sanghatana, a social movement working with the adivasis of Dahanu for the last two decades, state that the Sanghatana is opposed to an elitist kind of environmentalism that is not pro-people, but that they have in fact supported the environmental campaign from its initial stages and also support the eco-sensitive notification for Dahanu. However, it is interesting to note that in the last decade there has been no mobilisation or inclusion of the adivasi communities in the environmental campaign in any significant form. On the contrary, the CPI(M), which disagrees with the environmentalists, has held rallies and demonstrations of adivasi communities demanding the removal of the special environmental status granted to Dahanu. The party’s official stand at the time of the notification and for years later was that a blanket ban on a number of industries is not a balanced view of development, and while concerns about the environment are important, the creation of jobs and livelihoods for a marginalised community is equally critical. The adivasi community has remained largely unaffected by the environmental campaign. The campaign’s members admit that it was impossible for them to create a consciousness amongst the adivasi regarding the notification, given that most of their time went in opposing violations either before the Authority or at various courts. Discussions with the adivasi community in various villages (Sogve, Raytali and Jamshet), reveal that while some of them acknowledge that pollution from the thermal power plant is an issue, very few are even aware that Dahanu is a notified zone.6 The forest department is unable to provide a systematic assessment of the potential benefits of the Dahanu notification on the forests and consequently on tribals. Anecdotal accounts indicate that there has been considerable degradation in the last 10 years, suggesting that the notification has not led to any meaningful ecological improvement of Dahanu. Between the sandy soils of Dahanu’s coast and the coarser earth of the hills, the plains with their black cotton soil have
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
created a lucrative horticultural economy with chickoo as the primary commercial crop (6% of land in Dahanu is under horticulture) and subsidiary plantations of coconut and mango. Aware of the havoc pollution can wreck on their crops, most orchard owners have supported the environmental movement and the resulting restrictions on development. For many of the orchard owners whose crop is at risk from the pollution of the thermal power plant, the Authority, being an independent organisation devoid of any political compulsions was able to operate autonomously, and played a critical role in holding companies like Reliance accountable. However, the farming and orchard-owning community in Dahanu also grapples with its own realities. With declining yields since the late 1990s post the attack of a seed borer and reduced viability of the orchard economy, the challenge facing farmers is to be able to retain their tranquil way of life while still redefining their sources of livelihood. Many of the orchard owners feel that the constant monitoring and vigilance of the environmental campaign has played a critical role in ensuring that the region is largely protected from the impact of industrialisation and pollution. However, because of the constantly changing economy, there is a responsibility to innovate and ensure that horticulture and associated activities can bring about increased incomes while still protecting the environment.
Conclusion Dahanu may have been saved from becoming a toxic hotspot like its neighbour Vapi. However, the framework for the protection of its natural resources remains largely confined to the realm of law,
EPW Index An author-title index for EPW has been prepared for the years from 1968 to 2010. The PDFs of the Index have been uploaded, year-wise, on the EPW web site. Visitors can download the Index for all the years from the site. (The Index for a few years is yet to be prepared and will be uploaded when ready.) EPW would like to acknowledge the help of the staff of the library of the Indira Gandhi Institute for Development Research, Mumbai, in preparing the index under a project supported by the RD Tata Trust.
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ependent on the commitment and cond viction of environmental activists and members of the Dahanu Authority. Even as competing lobbies continue to push for the removal of the Dahanu Authority and de-notification, the environmentalists walk on a tight rope attempting to protect the natural resource base of the region. Efforts to create a parallel economy based on r ural tourism are options that need to be
urgently explored. The need of the hour is to demonstrate alternative and sustain able forms of development that are economically and ecologically viable.
2
Notes
4
1 See Government of India, Ministry of Environment and Forests, Notification dated 20 June 1991, New Delhi. Dahanu was only one among three areas in the country declared ecologically fragile at that time, the other two being Dehradun
Most Favoured Nation: New Trade Opportunities for India and Pakistan Nisha Taneja, Pallavi Kalita
The sixth round of trade talks between India and Pakistan is noteworthy for having followed up on all the decisions taken in the fifth round of April 2011. Pakistan has decided to grant the Most Favoured Nation status to India, and the latter has initiated business-to-business and government-to-business interaction for addressing information gaps. These measures could help realise a bilateral trade potential of $25.2 billion, estimated as of 2010, an amount 10 times larger than the current $2.5 billion trade.
Nisha Taneja (
[email protected]) and Pallavi Kalita (
[email protected]) are at the Indian Council for Research on International Economic Relations, New Delhi.
14
P
akistan’s decision to grant the Most Favoured Nation (MFN) status to India on 2 November 2011 is a signi ficant move in the bilateral trade relations between the two countries. Under the MFN clause, all members of the World Trade Organisation (WTO) are obliged to extend trading benefits to a country equal to those accorded to any other country. While India accorded Pakistan the MFN status in 1996, Pakistan’s decision to reciprocate has come 15 years later. Under the existing bilateral trade arrangement between the two countries, Pakistan permits the import of only a limited number of items from India, often referred to as the “positive list” approach. This approach is applied exclusively to India, a violation of the MFN principle. Items not included in the list are banned from entering Pakistan. During the last decade, Pakistan has increased the positive list gradually. In 2000, it permitted only 600 items for import from India. The number of items was increased to 767 in 2004 and further to 1,075 items in 2006. By 2009, it was increased further to 1,934 items. Trading under the positive list approach has led to large informal trade flows, mostly in items excluded from the positive list. A large proportion of such trade is routed through Dubai from where goods enter into the Pakistani market after passing through Iran and Afghanistan or directly
3
5 6
and Murud Janjira. Currently there are 10 such designated zones. For more details, see Government of India, Ministry of Environment and Forests, Notification dated 19 February 1991. See Bittu Sehgal vs Union of India, W P (Civil) No 231 of 1994. For more details, see Government of India, Ministry of Environment and Forests, Notification dated 19 December 1996, New Delhi. Interview with Debi Goenka (Environmental Activist, Mumbai), by Geetanjoy Sahu. Interview with adivasi community of Sogve, Raytali and Jamshet villages, by Michelle Chawla.
through Karachi by sea. The positive list approach also lacks transparency, creates uncertainties for traders and leads to high transaction costs (Taneja et al 2011). Following soon were the sixth round of talks on commercial and economic cooperation held on 14-16 November 2011, laying down the sequencing and timeline on the move towards full normalisation of trade relations. In the first stage, Pakistan will make a transition from the current positive list approach to a “small” negative list. The timeline laid down for the finalisation and ratification of the negative list is February 2012. In the second stage, the negative list will be phased out by the end of 2012. The new trading regime will also be applicable to all trade through the land route after the new infrastructure at AttariWagah is complete. The timeline for the commissioning of the new infrastructure at Attari-Wagah has been laid down to coincide with the announcement of the negative list. This is a marked change from the current practice whereby only 14 products are allowed to be traded by the road route. Clearly if these timelines are followed, there will be no contentious issues left on the MFN status. What is noteworthy about the sixth round of talks between the commerce secretaries of the two countries is that they have followed up on all the decisions taken in the fifth round of talks held in April 2011 (Ministry of Commerce 2011c). The agenda laid down in the latter included according MFN status to India by October 2011 and addressing non-tariff barriers by setting up joint working groups and sub-groups within specified timelines (Ministry of Commerce 2011a). Pakistan has been very concerned about non-tariff barriers in accessing the Indian market. In a joint working group co-chaired by the two
december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
COMMENTARY
ependent on the commitment and cond viction of environmental activists and members of the Dahanu Authority. Even as competing lobbies continue to push for the removal of the Dahanu Authority and de-notification, the environmentalists walk on a tight rope attempting to protect the natural resource base of the region. Efforts to create a parallel economy based on r ural tourism are options that need to be
urgently explored. The need of the hour is to demonstrate alternative and sustain able forms of development that are economically and ecologically viable.
2
Notes
4
1 See Government of India, Ministry of Environment and Forests, Notification dated 20 June 1991, New Delhi. Dahanu was only one among three areas in the country declared ecologically fragile at that time, the other two being Dehradun
Most Favoured Nation: New Trade Opportunities for India and Pakistan Nisha Taneja, Pallavi Kalita
The sixth round of trade talks between India and Pakistan is noteworthy for having followed up on all the decisions taken in the fifth round of April 2011. Pakistan has decided to grant the Most Favoured Nation status to India, and the latter has initiated business-to-business and government-to-business interaction for addressing information gaps. These measures could help realise a bilateral trade potential of $25.2 billion, estimated as of 2010, an amount 10 times larger than the current $2.5 billion trade.
Nisha Taneja (
[email protected]) and Pallavi Kalita (
[email protected]) are at the Indian Council for Research on International Economic Relations, New Delhi.
14
P
akistan’s decision to grant the Most Favoured Nation (MFN) status to India on 2 November 2011 is a signi ficant move in the bilateral trade relations between the two countries. Under the MFN clause, all members of the World Trade Organisation (WTO) are obliged to extend trading benefits to a country equal to those accorded to any other country. While India accorded Pakistan the MFN status in 1996, Pakistan’s decision to reciprocate has come 15 years later. Under the existing bilateral trade arrangement between the two countries, Pakistan permits the import of only a limited number of items from India, often referred to as the “positive list” approach. This approach is applied exclusively to India, a violation of the MFN principle. Items not included in the list are banned from entering Pakistan. During the last decade, Pakistan has increased the positive list gradually. In 2000, it permitted only 600 items for import from India. The number of items was increased to 767 in 2004 and further to 1,075 items in 2006. By 2009, it was increased further to 1,934 items. Trading under the positive list approach has led to large informal trade flows, mostly in items excluded from the positive list. A large proportion of such trade is routed through Dubai from where goods enter into the Pakistani market after passing through Iran and Afghanistan or directly
3
5 6
and Murud Janjira. Currently there are 10 such designated zones. For more details, see Government of India, Ministry of Environment and Forests, Notification dated 19 February 1991. See Bittu Sehgal vs Union of India, W P (Civil) No 231 of 1994. For more details, see Government of India, Ministry of Environment and Forests, Notification dated 19 December 1996, New Delhi. Interview with Debi Goenka (Environmental Activist, Mumbai), by Geetanjoy Sahu. Interview with adivasi community of Sogve, Raytali and Jamshet villages, by Michelle Chawla.
through Karachi by sea. The positive list approach also lacks transparency, creates uncertainties for traders and leads to high transaction costs (Taneja et al 2011). Following soon were the sixth round of talks on commercial and economic cooperation held on 14-16 November 2011, laying down the sequencing and timeline on the move towards full normalisation of trade relations. In the first stage, Pakistan will make a transition from the current positive list approach to a “small” negative list. The timeline laid down for the finalisation and ratification of the negative list is February 2012. In the second stage, the negative list will be phased out by the end of 2012. The new trading regime will also be applicable to all trade through the land route after the new infrastructure at AttariWagah is complete. The timeline for the commissioning of the new infrastructure at Attari-Wagah has been laid down to coincide with the announcement of the negative list. This is a marked change from the current practice whereby only 14 products are allowed to be traded by the road route. Clearly if these timelines are followed, there will be no contentious issues left on the MFN status. What is noteworthy about the sixth round of talks between the commerce secretaries of the two countries is that they have followed up on all the decisions taken in the fifth round of talks held in April 2011 (Ministry of Commerce 2011c). The agenda laid down in the latter included according MFN status to India by October 2011 and addressing non-tariff barriers by setting up joint working groups and sub-groups within specified timelines (Ministry of Commerce 2011a). Pakistan has been very concerned about non-tariff barriers in accessing the Indian market. In a joint working group co-chaired by the two
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COMMENTARY
commerce secretaries, in August 2011, the Pakistani side specified the non-tariff barriers perceived by its business community in sectors such as cement, processed food, textiles, surgical instruments, fruits and vegetables and leather (Ministry of Commerce 2011b). The identified barriers were related to complex and lengthy procedures in India and the lack of awareness on the part of Pakistani business and government authorities of Indian regulations and licensing requirements for a range of products. Subsequently, in September 2011, the Indian government arranged an interactive session between Pakistani businesspersons and Indian regulators where the latter clarified that the standards were nondiscriminatory. Further clarifications were sought by the Pakistani side at the sixth round of talks. Indian regulators provided information to the Pakistan delegation on the regulatory regime in India. It was also decided that the Indian side would send its regulators to Pakistan in March 2012 for an interaction with Pakistani business persons. Again, these measures are being taken in a very short time span within predetermined timelines. The business-tobusiness and government-to-business interaction is an innovative, yet simple method of addressing information gaps on the business environment between the two countries. This not only serves as a powerful means to confidence building but is an effective trade-facilitation measure. Pakistan had also raised issues related to customs clearance, valuation and acceptance of test certificates linked to standards. To address these concerns, a Customs Liaison Border Committee was set up to ensure expeditious clearance of goods and harmonisation of customs procedures. Nodal customs officers have been identified on both sides with whom traders can establish direct contact on all matters pertaining to delays in trade consignments, trade document requirements and other customsrelated matters.
Trade Possibilities The trade-enhancing measures being adopted by the two countries will no doubt open up new trade opportunities for the two countries. Bilateral trade between India and Pakistan stood at $2.5 billion in 2010
of which India’s exports to Pakistan were $2.2 billion and imports from Pakistan were $0.3 billion. The trade balance continues to be in India’s favour, with a $1.9 billion surplus for the country in 2010. The top five commodities exported from India to Pakistan in 2010 included chemical products such as paraxylene, raw and refined sugar, cotton and woven fabrics, accounting for 56%. Sugar alone accounted for 24% of exports. Dates were the most
Trade Approach (PTA) is used. Products having trade potential are identified as those that have (1) adequate demand in the receiving country, (2) adequate supply capabilities in the source country. Potential trade for any commodity is given by the minimum of SE and MI less ET, where SE, MI and ET are the supplier’s global exports, receiver’s global imports and existing trade between the supplier and the receiver. The exercise was conducted
Table 1: India’s Export Potential to Pakistan 2010 ($ million) Product Code
Product Description
India’s Exports to the World
Pakistan’s Imports India’s Exports Trade Potential from the World to Pakistan
271019
Petroleum oils and oils obtained from bituminous minerals, other than crude
21,029.6
6,551.9
1.0
6,551.0
271011
Light petroleum oils and preparations
15,071.7
686.4
25.5
660.9
520100
Cotton, not carded/combed
2,973.0
760.2
300.3
459.8
851712
Telephones for cellular networks
1,481.9
425.4
0.0
425.4
390210
Polypropylene, in primary forms
870322
Motor vehicles
090240
800.0
329.1
20.6
308.5
2,151.8
285.8
0.0
285.8
Tea, black (fermented)
570.7
298.5
22.5
276.0
290243
Paraxylene
426.4
353.6
123.6
230.0
890520
Floating/submersible drilling platforms for light vessels, dredgers, etc
1,072.9
200.4
0.0
200.4
721049
Flat-rolled products of iron/non-alloy
662.5
199.5
0.3
199.2
Source: UNComtrade.
Table 2: Pakistan’s Export Potential to India 2010 ($ million) Product Code
Product Description
271019
Petroleum oils and oils obtained from bituminous minerals, other than crude
Pakistan Exports India’s Imports Pakistan Exports Trade to the World from the World to India Potential
901890 Instruments and appliances used in medical, surgical, dental or veterinary sciences
1,194.8
2,949.1
2.9
1,191.8
219
334.1
0.3
218.7
576.9
178.1
0.2
177.9
216.7
84.1
0.1
84
69.2
76.5
0.1
69.1
220720 Ethyl alcohol and other spirits
86.7
66.6
0.1
66.6
850239 Electric generating sets
66.3
56.8
0.1
56.7
80410
52.4
95
0.1
52.3
46.2
149.3
0.1
46.1
373.8
42.5
0
42.4
711319
Articles of jewellery and parts
520100 Cotton, not carded/combed 730690 Tubes, pipes and hollow profiles
Dates, fresh/dried
730890 Structures and parts of towers, tubes, plates, rods, etc 252329 Portland cement Source: UNComtrade.
important item being imported from Pakistan, accounting for 18% of total imports and cement accounted for almost 11.2% of imports from Pakistan. The top five imports from Pakistan into India included dates, cement, petroleum oil and chemical products, accounting for 49%. The restrictive trade regime and the presence of large informal trade flows indicate that there is a huge untapped trade potential between India and Pakistan. There are several items that the two countries can import from each other instead of importing from the world. In order to assess the magnitude of trade possibilities (referred to as the trade potential) bet ween the two countries, a simple Potential
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
first by using Pakistan as a supplier and then using India as the supplier. Data from the United Nations Commodity Trade Statistics Database (UNComtrade) was employed. The trade data used is at the six-digit level of classification under the harmonised system of classification (HS code). The results of the exercise show an estimated bilateral trade potential of $25.2 billion in 2010, 10 times larger than the current $2.5 billion trade. India has an untapped export potential of $21.1 billion, of which $7.2 billion is accounted for by petroleum products alone. Exports of petroleum products by India to Pakistan can increase manifold after Pakistan grants MFN status to India.
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Compared to Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Nepal, India’s exports to Pakistan in this sector are quite low. In 2010, India’s petroleum oil and products exports to Nepal were the highest at $627.8 million, followed by Sri Lanka at $598 million and Bangladesh at $110.1 million. For the top 10 products, India’s export potential to Pakistan accounts for 45.5% of total exports. Cotton and organic chemicals like paraxylene, which are already major export commodities to Pakistan, are shown to have additional potential for exports of $459.8 million and $230 million, respectively. Other top 10 products with notable export potential include light petroleum oils and preparations, motor vehicles, telephones, tea (fermented), etc (Table 1, p 15). Pakistan’s export potential to India in 2010 was $4.1 billion, of which $1 billion was in petroleum products. For the top 10 pro ducts, Pakistan’s export potential to India is $2 billion, which accounts for 49% of the total export potential (Table 2, p 15). Dates have an additional export potential of $52.3 billion. The top 10 products with export potential include petroleum oils, cotton, jewellery, electric generating sets, etc. It is to be noted that India and Pakistan both have export potential in petroleum oils (HS code 271019). However, at the more disaggregated level of the HS code eight-digit level, Pakistan’s major petro leum oil export is base oil (HS code 27101960), while India’s comparative advantage within petroleum oil lies in high speed diesel (HS code 27101930), aviation turbine fuel (HS code 27101920), fuel oil (HS code 27101950) and lubricating oil (HS code 27101980). The PTA approach is expected to yield more realistic results compared to econometric models that use bilateral trade data. Since existing bilateral trade is limited due to the positive list approach, any econometric model would not yield correct results. The PTA, however, also has its limitations. First, all computations are based on only one year’s data, i e, 2010. The advantage of using data for one year is that it allows us to focus on the most recent data, but this approach excludes items traded in previous but not in the most recent year. A second limitation of this approach is that it is conducted at
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the HS six-digit level and not at the eightdigit level, since the available inter national databases do not carry trade statistics at the eight-digit level. The PTA does not take into account differences in prices of commodities being supplied by the partner country and by suppliers from the rest of the world. However, if we assume transport and other transactions cost to be very low, given the geographical proximity between the two countries, then this approach would be more indicative of trade possibilities between them. Given the limitations of the PTA, the results should be treated as merely indicative of trade possibilities, offering ballpark figures on possible trade between the two countries.
The Broader Agenda A more detailed examination of the fifth and sixth rounds of talks shows that the two governments have not only addressed the two major concerns of the MFN status and non-tariff barriers, but have also taken new trade initiatives to facilitate electricity trading between the two countries, petroleum trading, Bt cotton seed trade, and trade in information technology sector (Ministry of Commerce 2011c). A liberal investment regime for Pakistani investments in India, collaboration in trade
promotion activities, and opening of bank branches on both sides are other initiatives that are on the agenda for the trade talks. What is most remarkable about the recent developments is that between April 2011 and November 2011, tremendous ground has been covered in addressing pending issues. The adherence to timelines set for every aspect on the agenda is unprecedented in trade negotiations that the two countries have had with other countries. The most tangible decision was regarding MFN status as it required approval from the Pakistani cabinet. This timely decision has restored confidence between the two countries. There is no doubt now that the blueprint laid out for implementation of the MFN will be carried out as per the timeline. Measures related to removal of non-tariff barriers have set the process of addressing all information asymmetries related to trade between the two countries in motion. One major pending issue relates to visa restrictions. Granting of city-specific visas, requirements on police reporting on arrival and before departure, required exit from the port of entry, and delays in granting visas are some of the restrictions that limit market access for aspiring traders. In October 2011, the two sides finalised the
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draft text of the agreement for streamlining visa procedures (Ministry of External Affairs 2011). However, the contours of the agreement are not known yet. While the two countries work at easing the visa restrictions, there is no doubt that a more liberal visa regime could provide an effective channel for information exchange on trade-related matters between the two countries. At this point it is impossible to have a pessimistic view on Indo-Pakistan trade relations.
References Ministry of Commerce (2011a): “Joint Statement of the 5th Round of Talks on Commercial and Economic Co-operation between Commerce Secretaries of India and Pakistan”, Islamabad, 27-28 April. Last accessed on 12 November 2011: http://commerce. nic.in/whatsnew/JOINT%20STATEMENT_5th_ TALKS_COMMERCIA_ECONOMIC_%20COOPERATION_INDIA_PAKISTAN.pdf – (2011b): “Minutes of India-Pakistan Meeting of Joint Working Group on Economic and Com mercial Cooperation and Trade Promotion”, New Delhi, 23-24 August. Last accessed on 14 November 2011: http://commerce.nic.in/WhatsNew/ Minutes_Inida_Pak_JWG_23_24_Aug_2011_New_ Delhi.pdf
Electronic Waste Recycling for Developing Economies Sanchari Ghosh
This article reviews the progress of electronic waste recycling around the world and emphasises the need to give more economic importance to this sector in the developing nations. Two cases are considered for determining a model of recycling under the present constraints. These alternative models can provide a basic foundation for laying out the respective roles of producers and consumers for economic recycling of this waste.
Sanchari Ghosh (
[email protected]) is with the Spears School of Business, Oklahoma State University, Stillwater.
F
ollowing the Basel Convention in 1992, measures on the proper disposal and/or recycling of solid waste, particularly those hazardous to the environment, have been one of the prioritised areas of environmental economic activity for the developed nations. A recent development (starting around the early 2000s) has been the search for appropriate strategies for disposal of electronic waste (e-waste), and to put forth plans for implementing economic and environmentfriendly recycling of this waste. The importance of the latter has been identified and positive measures undertaken from the perspective of demand and supply in many developed countries as well as in emerging economies like India and China. However, the problem persists in the developing nations: proper disposal of e-waste is still not in practice, let alone accepting an economic and scientific method of recycling it. The backbone of electronic waste recycling is the Extended Producer Respon sibility (EPR) scheme first introduced in Switzerland in 2003. It places the burden of recycling on the producers and hence delineates a recycling market as part of the intermediate goods market of the economy. Most European countries and some south-east Asian nations have followed this model while in California, where recycling has taken on an important
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
– (2011c): “Joint Statement of the 6th Round of Talks on Commercial and Economic Co-operation between Commerce Secretaries of India and Pakistan”, Press Information Bureau, New Delhi, 14-16 November. Last accessed on 17 November 2011: http://commerce.nic.in/writereaddata/pressrelease/Joint_Statement_India_Pak_ Round6th.pdf Ministry of External Affairs (2011): “Joint Press Statement of India – Pakistan Joint Working Group on Visa Matters”, New Delhi, 14 October. Last accessed on 10 November 2011: http://mea.gov.in/ mystart.php?id=530118398 Taneja, Nisha, Shravani Prakash and Pallavi Kalita (2011): “Issues in India-Pakistan Trade Negotiations”, Economic & Political Weekly, 46(30).
role, the consumers have to pay a surcharge. In whatever form the recycling sector is organised, many developed nations have demarcated a sector which functions smoothly if the relevant agents, i e, the consumers and the producers play their respective roles. For instance, in California, a recycling fee is collected from consumers to fund a programme that in turn redistributes recovery and recycling payments to “qualified entities” to cover the costs of collecting and recycling electronic waste (Wolfington and Maranto 2008). In Maine and in Minnesota, it is the “producers pay” (PP) principle in practice. In Maine which was the first US state to introduce the PP principle, Wagner (2009) found that the three year e-waste recycling programme has resulted in a significant decline in disposal and an increase in environmentally sound recycling.
Pollution Havens The same is not true for the developing nations. The problem here is deeply rooted in the nexus between the trade environment and the economy of these nations. Like many negative pollution externalities e-waste has been shipped to the developing nations conforming to the pollution haven hypothesis. Less stringent environmental regulations, a lethargic public attitude and relatively poor technical infrastructure have together contributed to the emergence of an informal “market” in the backyard of stores and factories where labourers work under unhygienic and adverse environmental conditions. The main objective of this research is to assess the economic importance of this sector as it exists in the
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draft text of the agreement for streamlining visa procedures (Ministry of External Affairs 2011). However, the contours of the agreement are not known yet. While the two countries work at easing the visa restrictions, there is no doubt that a more liberal visa regime could provide an effective channel for information exchange on trade-related matters between the two countries. At this point it is impossible to have a pessimistic view on Indo-Pakistan trade relations.
References Ministry of Commerce (2011a): “Joint Statement of the 5th Round of Talks on Commercial and Economic Co-operation between Commerce Secretaries of India and Pakistan”, Islamabad, 27-28 April. Last accessed on 12 November 2011: http://commerce. nic.in/whatsnew/JOINT%20STATEMENT_5th_ TALKS_COMMERCIA_ECONOMIC_%20COOPERATION_INDIA_PAKISTAN.pdf – (2011b): “Minutes of India-Pakistan Meeting of Joint Working Group on Economic and Com mercial Cooperation and Trade Promotion”, New Delhi, 23-24 August. Last accessed on 14 November 2011: http://commerce.nic.in/WhatsNew/ Minutes_Inida_Pak_JWG_23_24_Aug_2011_New_ Delhi.pdf
Electronic Waste Recycling for Developing Economies Sanchari Ghosh
This article reviews the progress of electronic waste recycling around the world and emphasises the need to give more economic importance to this sector in the developing nations. Two cases are considered for determining a model of recycling under the present constraints. These alternative models can provide a basic foundation for laying out the respective roles of producers and consumers for economic recycling of this waste.
Sanchari Ghosh (
[email protected]) is with the Spears School of Business, Oklahoma State University, Stillwater.
F
ollowing the Basel Convention in 1992, measures on the proper disposal and/or recycling of solid waste, particularly those hazardous to the environment, have been one of the prioritised areas of environmental economic activity for the developed nations. A recent development (starting around the early 2000s) has been the search for appropriate strategies for disposal of electronic waste (e-waste), and to put forth plans for implementing economic and environmentfriendly recycling of this waste. The importance of the latter has been identified and positive measures undertaken from the perspective of demand and supply in many developed countries as well as in emerging economies like India and China. However, the problem persists in the developing nations: proper disposal of e-waste is still not in practice, let alone accepting an economic and scientific method of recycling it. The backbone of electronic waste recycling is the Extended Producer Respon sibility (EPR) scheme first introduced in Switzerland in 2003. It places the burden of recycling on the producers and hence delineates a recycling market as part of the intermediate goods market of the economy. Most European countries and some south-east Asian nations have followed this model while in California, where recycling has taken on an important
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
– (2011c): “Joint Statement of the 6th Round of Talks on Commercial and Economic Co-operation between Commerce Secretaries of India and Pakistan”, Press Information Bureau, New Delhi, 14-16 November. Last accessed on 17 November 2011: http://commerce.nic.in/writereaddata/pressrelease/Joint_Statement_India_Pak_ Round6th.pdf Ministry of External Affairs (2011): “Joint Press Statement of India – Pakistan Joint Working Group on Visa Matters”, New Delhi, 14 October. Last accessed on 10 November 2011: http://mea.gov.in/ mystart.php?id=530118398 Taneja, Nisha, Shravani Prakash and Pallavi Kalita (2011): “Issues in India-Pakistan Trade Negotiations”, Economic & Political Weekly, 46(30).
role, the consumers have to pay a surcharge. In whatever form the recycling sector is organised, many developed nations have demarcated a sector which functions smoothly if the relevant agents, i e, the consumers and the producers play their respective roles. For instance, in California, a recycling fee is collected from consumers to fund a programme that in turn redistributes recovery and recycling payments to “qualified entities” to cover the costs of collecting and recycling electronic waste (Wolfington and Maranto 2008). In Maine and in Minnesota, it is the “producers pay” (PP) principle in practice. In Maine which was the first US state to introduce the PP principle, Wagner (2009) found that the three year e-waste recycling programme has resulted in a significant decline in disposal and an increase in environmentally sound recycling.
Pollution Havens The same is not true for the developing nations. The problem here is deeply rooted in the nexus between the trade environment and the economy of these nations. Like many negative pollution externalities e-waste has been shipped to the developing nations conforming to the pollution haven hypothesis. Less stringent environmental regulations, a lethargic public attitude and relatively poor technical infrastructure have together contributed to the emergence of an informal “market” in the backyard of stores and factories where labourers work under unhygienic and adverse environmental conditions. The main objective of this research is to assess the economic importance of this sector as it exists in the
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emerging economies particularly India and China. It will briefly review the structure of this market, identify the key differences with the market in some developed economies, present a concise economic modelling of the working of this sector under the present regulations and conclude with an attempt to tie up this recycling with trade.
Developed Countries’ Experience Switzerland has been the pioneer in the e-waste recycling field ever since it came to the forefront as a hazardous yet economic waste material that needs careful disposal. Switzerland’s adoption of the EPR principle was followed by other developed nations including many in Asia. According to Khetriwal et al (2009), this led to environmentally and economically effective systems for reuse and recycling, and therefore, a structured market for e-waste recycling where only licensed firms (those holding government licences for
recycling) can legally carry out recycling against an advanced recycling fee (ARF) payment by the producers and/or consumers. This model has been successful in Switzerland and to some extent in other countries because of consumer cooperation, low cost of compliance, regular audit of licensed recycling firms, and no mono poly creation at all due to an exogenous fee charged to name a few reasons (Khetriwal et al 2009). In the US, California has been active in implementing regulations on the commodity market itself through charging a consumer fee for electronic purchase while the study by Wagner (2009) in Maine documents the success of the extended producer responsibility principle. Maryland and Washington have their e-waste recycling regulations in place too (Thakker 2006). However, this same policy fails to perform in the deve loping countries due to the differences in the evolution of e-waste recycling market in these economies.
Developing Countries According to Toxic Links, an estimated 0.48 million e-waste is generated annually in India with 95% of the waste being handled by the informal sector. The focus here will be on an economic assessment of the e-waste recycling market and the various aspects of its working in the developing nations. The importance of setting up a formal recycling market stems from the growing problem of e-waste dumping in these pollution havens and the resultant negative health effects on the thousands of workers who engage in removal of essential parts from the waste and selling them off in the secondary market. A formal recycling market with licensed recyclers can mitigate the above problems by (i) setting up a legal route for export of e-waste to the developing nations and leaving it to the governments of both the exporting and importing nations to punish defaulters, (ii) creating a new industry for employment of the vast population
INSTITUTE OF ECONOMIC GROWTH UNIVERSITY OF DELHI ENCLAVE, NORTH CAMPUS, DELHI-110007 The Institute of Economic Growth (IEG) plans to appoint one Assistant Professor in the Agricultural Economics Research Unit of the Institute in the scale of pay of Rs. 15,60039,100 GP: Rs. 6,000 per month with the usual allowances admissible from time to time. Essential Qualifications An excellent academic record with a Ph.D. in Economics/Agricultural Economics. Persons with research experience and publications in the area of agricultural development will be given preference. The candidate should have good skills in writing, computer use, and knowledge of statistical packages. The Institute can also consider suitable candidates who may not have applied. The Institute reserves the right not to fill the above position, if circumstances so warrant. Other things being equal, SC/ST/OBC candidates will be preferred. Interested persons may send their Bio-data with names of three referees and copies of their two best publications to the Academic Programmes Officer, Institute of Economic Growth, Delhi University Enclave, North Campus, Delhi-110007, (Email: sushil@iegindia. org) within four weeks of publication of this advertisement. Employed candidates must route their applications through proper channels. DIRECTOR 18
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currently dependent on this informal sector and the meagre income it provides, (iii) developing a formal secondary market for e-waste processing and turning these into usable products which adds to revenues from sale, and finally (iv) reducing or eliminating the various hazardous consequences of handling these waste and the adverse effects on the health of workers involved. In what follows I attempt to provide an economic model of an e-waste recycling market in India and explore four possibilities from the perspectives of producers and consumers. The conceptual ideas follow to some extent what has been done in Shinkuma and Managi (2010). It is assumed that the collection and separation be done in one stage while the recycling is carried out afterwards.
Model Three scenarios are developed in the context of a developing country with a very informal recycling sector but which is under scrutiny by the government wishing to substitute it with a formal sector.
Case I This approach owes its origin to the concept of the deposit refund system. Wath et al (2010) discuss such a system in the context of e-waste management in India. Suppose the government has certified some licensed recyclers and the manufacturer ties up with them and puts a surcharge on the consumer at the time of purchase. This surcharge may be calculated on a volumetric basis. Let pR be the retail price, Ps is the sale price and ŝ is the surcharge on the elect ronic good. Then consumer’s retail price pR = ps + ŝ Thus net value of the good = Use value- ŝ However ŝ may be returned as “cash back” or refunded at the time when the good is discarded to the recycler and hence is an avenue to encourage more consumers to seriously decide on the commitment to recycle. This surcharge would be a discounted cost subtracted from the consumer’s present valuation of the good. Then net value of the good = Use value (a) There exist some unlicensed recyclers too but their probability of survival if consumers adhere strictly to the above
policy is almost zero. (The government can actually make mandatory the payment of surcharge.) The licensed recyclers thus enjoy a natural monopoly.
Case II If consumers do not pay the surcharge (it is not possible for the government to actually implement it all over thus the payment is not mandatory and recycling by licensed recyclers has not yet been institutionalised) then they dispose off their e-waste in the informal market. They then get a resale price = pRS and Net value=Use value+ resale value (b) If (b)>(a) always, consumers will always follow the second procedure. But even if (b)>(a) mathematically is it always economically intuitive? First, there is the search cost for recyclers. If informal recyclers are hard to find then disposal is the easy way out. In that case (a) is always a better option but the question remains on how to give incentives to consumers to follow (a). Making
legal recycling mandatory by offering consumers cash back without a surcharge is a possibility but recyclers, manufac turers and the government will have to negotiate this. Second, any awareness of the signi ficantly negative health effects of informal recycling and the fact that it is a parallel market may discourage con sumers to sell off their discarded e-waste in this sector. The price charged in the formal and informal sectors merits further discussion. This price can seldom be the same in the two sectors until the market is very structured with strict penalty on unlicensed recyclers (in the informal sector) if they are detected. Even if the formal sector exists, it may not be able to recover the cost of recycling which will be higher than that of the informal sector.1 Then the two markets will converge and manufacturers will pay one price. The real issue for the governments in the developing countries then is to
Krishna Raj Memorial Scholarships 2011 NSSKPT High School, Ottappalam, Kerala Six scholarships have been awarded in the school where Krishna Raj studied for a few years. The scholarships cover tuition fees, uniforms, books and special coaching. In 2011-12, the scholarships have been awarded to Sreedevi P K, Ajayan V (VIII standard), Arun C, Amal S R (IX standard) and Vipindas P, Induja V (X standard).
Delhi School of Economics Summer fellowships were awarded to 17 students (M.A. Economics & Sociology) working in eight groups, for conducting field surveys and writing reports under the supervision of faculty of the DSE: Ashwini Deshpande, Aditya Bhattacharjea, J V Meenakshi and Anirban Kar. The students awarded fellowships were Dheeraj Mamadule, Vimmy, Swati Sharma, Arnab Kumar Maulik, Ashutosh Kumar, Debapriya Bhowmik, Yesh Vardhan Agarwal, Sandhya Srinivasan, Keshav Maheshwari, Madhulika Khanna, Ravideep Sethi, Resham Nagpal (all Economics); Shagua Kaur Bhangu, Maria Ann Mathew, Ujjainee Sharma, Trishna Senapati, Aaradhana Dalmia (all Sociology). The seven projects were (i) Rehabilitation and Resettlement of Slums in Delhi, (ii) Social Networks of Migrant Women Employed at Construction Sites, (iii) Reading Spaces: A Study of Libraries and the Reading Public in India, (iv) Marriage Practices of the Knanaya Community of Kerala, (v) Socio-Economic Impact Analysis and Replicability Study of Alternative Energy Programme in the Sunderbans, (vi) Impact of FPS on Slums in Delhi, and (vii) Addressing Poverty through NTFPs: An Analysis of Madhya Pradesh.
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decide how the presence of the informal sector can be minimised. An informal sector may exist alongside a formal sector like an informal labour market but there will be limitations to how the wages and the price will be determined. A related concern is to devise a suitable and economic method to make consumers and manufacturers more aware about the importance of proper recycling. Community level education about the hazards of irresponsible dumping and strict regulations can show results; however there is also a need to relate consumer awareness to manufacturing actions like putting eco labels on electronics which are dismantled in certified recycling areas. On the other hand, recycling technology has to be made public through media and reports. It may be noted here that imported e-waste has to go through the same process too and negotiations with firms from exporting countries on the ground of technology adopted for recycling might
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encourage the former to ensure the proper development of this sector in the developing economies (for instance, China has this rule in practice). Recycling with imported goods from abroad: With tariff: ¨p = p(1+t) This accrues to licensed recyclers under strict government observation. Without tariff: E-waste from abroad goes to unlicensed recyclers. The latter will procure e-waste from the domestic market and from abroad. This can push down the price compared to what licensed recyclers offer. Then an informal sector can develop with probability of detection close to zero.
Conclusion A new e-waste directive to come into force by 2012 calls for the registration of all firms dealing with e-waste from collection, dismantling, processing and recycling
irrespective of their being in the formal and informal sectors. The strategies mentioned above may or may not completely be adhered to depending upon the economic benefits and costs involved in implementation. The benefits from recycling may be overshadowed by the costs of running the sector and expecting every agent to cooperate at least on legal grounds. Yet the long-term solution for the prevention of the hazards now being faced by the developing countries calls for an institutionali sation of the market on the lines of some south-east Asian economies that have already done so. An alternative option as proposed by researchers at Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit (GTZ) and Adelphi is the integration of the informal and formal sectors in e-waste recycling such that the business can take advantage of the cheap labour intensity of the informal sector and the capital intensity of the formal sector. Whatever the path chosen, present legislation needs
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to be transformed to active policies in order for e-waste recycling to make any economic contribution in terms of output and employment and also ensure a conducive work environment.
References Khetriwal, D S, P Kraenchi and R Widmer (2009): “Producer Responsibility or E-Waste Management: Key Issues for Consideration-Learning from the Swiss Experience”, Journal of Environmental Management, 90(1): 153-65. Shinkuma, T and S Managi (2010): “On the Effectiveness of a Licence Scheme for E-Waste Recycling: The Challenge of China and India”, Environmental Impact Assessment Review, 30(4): 262-67. Thakker, N (2006): “India’s Toxic Landfills: A Dumping Ground for the World’s Electronic Waste”, Sustainable Development Law and Policy, 6(3): 58-61.
Wagner, T P (2009): “Shared Responsibility for Managing Electronic Waste: A Case Study of Maine, USA”, Waste Management, 29(12): 3014-21. Wath, S B, A N Vaidya, P S Dutt and T Chakrabarti (2010): “A Roadmap for Development of Sus tainable E-Waste Management System in India”, Sc ience of the Total Environment, 409(1): 19-32. Wolfington, J and A R Maranto (2008): “Policy Approaches to the Recycling and Disposal of Electronic Waste”, The Pacific Journal of Science and Technology, 9(2): 603-09. http://www.toxicslink.org/
Deregulation or Destabilisation?
has brought this out graphically in his studies. As he explained,1
Note 1 Here search cost for informal recyclers may reduce this price difference because the search cost is an opportunity cost of time for the consumer.
K Subramanian
It seems that the Reserve Bank of India has taken a silos approach in deciding to deregulate the interest rate on savings bank accounts. The decision is likely to unsettle the banks, leaving the deposit holder no better than before.
T
he rate on savings bank (SB) accounts has remained rock steady. The balances in SB accounts have also been growing over the years. Efficient market theorists may wonder why? Way back in 1978, the interest rate was 4.5% and in September 1979 it was raised to 5%. From that year until April 1992 it was steady at 5% and was then raised to 6%. Indeed, this was the peak rate for the poor SB account holders in our times. The story of its decline and fall started in later years.
Erosion of Earnings
K Subramanian (
[email protected]) retired from the Union Ministry of Finance.
In 1993, it was reduced to 5% and down again to 4.5% in 1994. It remained at that level until April 2000 when it was lowered to 4%. In March 2003, it was pushed further down to 3.5% where it vegetated for eight years until May 2011 when it was raised to 4%. One may not ignore the small mercies granted in April 2010 when the Reserve Bank of India (RBI) advised banks to pay interest on daily basis instead of the arbitrary manner in which they were crediting interest to SB accounts. To add insult to injury, banks collected various charges, direct or indirect, which tended to erode earnings. There was no uniform standard followed by banks, nor any guidelines or norms set by the RBI. Adding further to their woes, the impact of inflation reduced the real rate further. Truth is that at current rates of inflation, SB depositors have been getting negative returns. Ashis Das of the Indian Institute of Technology Bombay
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
based on WPI [wholesale price index] inflation data, we see that every time the real rate turned positive the regulator reduced the SB rate, never to take corrective action (in terms of increasing the SB rate) even on subsequent high negative real rates...From 2003 to 2009 the real rates on SB accounts remained at historically low levels and persisted there for six years.
Surprisingly, despite the shabby treatment meted out to small savers, SB deposits have grown over time. In its discussion paper,2 the RBI observed how average annual rate of savings deposits which had decelerated in the 1990s when compared with the 1980s “accelerated sharply in the decade of the 2000”. In this decade, the average growth of savings deposits exceeded that of both demand deposits and term deposits, notwithstanding the growth in term deposits outpacing that of savings deposits during the period 2005-10. It gives an account of savings account penetration which remained broadly unchanged between March 1996 and March 2005 and increased significantly by March 2009.
Savings Account Penetration Data for the last three years ending 2010-11 show that SB accounts or what are classified as current account and savings account (CASA) in banks’ books constituted 20-29% of all deposits. The Financial Stability Report (FSR) 20113 issued by the RBI in June 2011 estimated CASA deposits at 35%. In magnitude, the total CASA accounts were estimated at Rs 13 lakh crore parked as SB deposits and Rs 4.5 lakh crore as current account deposits. An interesting feature of CASA deposits is that their distribution is highly skewed. Data given in the FSR suggest that public sector banks hold over 30%, while new private banks and foreign banks hold
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to be transformed to active policies in order for e-waste recycling to make any economic contribution in terms of output and employment and also ensure a conducive work environment.
References Khetriwal, D S, P Kraenchi and R Widmer (2009): “Producer Responsibility or E-Waste Management: Key Issues for Consideration-Learning from the Swiss Experience”, Journal of Environmental Management, 90(1): 153-65. Shinkuma, T and S Managi (2010): “On the Effectiveness of a Licence Scheme for E-Waste Recycling: The Challenge of China and India”, Environmental Impact Assessment Review, 30(4): 262-67. Thakker, N (2006): “India’s Toxic Landfills: A Dumping Ground for the World’s Electronic Waste”, Sustainable Development Law and Policy, 6(3): 58-61.
Wagner, T P (2009): “Shared Responsibility for Managing Electronic Waste: A Case Study of Maine, USA”, Waste Management, 29(12): 3014-21. Wath, S B, A N Vaidya, P S Dutt and T Chakrabarti (2010): “A Roadmap for Development of Sus tainable E-Waste Management System in India”, Sc ience of the Total Environment, 409(1): 19-32. Wolfington, J and A R Maranto (2008): “Policy Approaches to the Recycling and Disposal of Electronic Waste”, The Pacific Journal of Science and Technology, 9(2): 603-09. http://www.toxicslink.org/
Deregulation or Destabilisation?
has brought this out graphically in his studies. As he explained,1
Note 1 Here search cost for informal recyclers may reduce this price difference because the search cost is an opportunity cost of time for the consumer.
K Subramanian
It seems that the Reserve Bank of India has taken a silos approach in deciding to deregulate the interest rate on savings bank accounts. The decision is likely to unsettle the banks, leaving the deposit holder no better than before.
T
he rate on savings bank (SB) accounts has remained rock steady. The balances in SB accounts have also been growing over the years. Efficient market theorists may wonder why? Way back in 1978, the interest rate was 4.5% and in September 1979 it was raised to 5%. From that year until April 1992 it was steady at 5% and was then raised to 6%. Indeed, this was the peak rate for the poor SB account holders in our times. The story of its decline and fall started in later years.
Erosion of Earnings
K Subramanian (
[email protected]) retired from the Union Ministry of Finance.
In 1993, it was reduced to 5% and down again to 4.5% in 1994. It remained at that level until April 2000 when it was lowered to 4%. In March 2003, it was pushed further down to 3.5% where it vegetated for eight years until May 2011 when it was raised to 4%. One may not ignore the small mercies granted in April 2010 when the Reserve Bank of India (RBI) advised banks to pay interest on daily basis instead of the arbitrary manner in which they were crediting interest to SB accounts. To add insult to injury, banks collected various charges, direct or indirect, which tended to erode earnings. There was no uniform standard followed by banks, nor any guidelines or norms set by the RBI. Adding further to their woes, the impact of inflation reduced the real rate further. Truth is that at current rates of inflation, SB depositors have been getting negative returns. Ashis Das of the Indian Institute of Technology Bombay
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
based on WPI [wholesale price index] inflation data, we see that every time the real rate turned positive the regulator reduced the SB rate, never to take corrective action (in terms of increasing the SB rate) even on subsequent high negative real rates...From 2003 to 2009 the real rates on SB accounts remained at historically low levels and persisted there for six years.
Surprisingly, despite the shabby treatment meted out to small savers, SB deposits have grown over time. In its discussion paper,2 the RBI observed how average annual rate of savings deposits which had decelerated in the 1990s when compared with the 1980s “accelerated sharply in the decade of the 2000”. In this decade, the average growth of savings deposits exceeded that of both demand deposits and term deposits, notwithstanding the growth in term deposits outpacing that of savings deposits during the period 2005-10. It gives an account of savings account penetration which remained broadly unchanged between March 1996 and March 2005 and increased significantly by March 2009.
Savings Account Penetration Data for the last three years ending 2010-11 show that SB accounts or what are classified as current account and savings account (CASA) in banks’ books constituted 20-29% of all deposits. The Financial Stability Report (FSR) 20113 issued by the RBI in June 2011 estimated CASA deposits at 35%. In magnitude, the total CASA accounts were estimated at Rs 13 lakh crore parked as SB deposits and Rs 4.5 lakh crore as current account deposits. An interesting feature of CASA deposits is that their distribution is highly skewed. Data given in the FSR suggest that public sector banks hold over 30%, while new private banks and foreign banks hold
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around 40%. (These percentages are in relation to total deposits.) The ratio of CASA to total deposits varies from bank to bank. Broadly, in the past, public sector banks attracted more deposits, perhaps due to the psychological security offered by government ownership and guarantees. However, in recent years their loyalty seems to be shifting. It is intriguing how when the reform agenda was the name of the game and financial reforms were at its heart, SB accounts escaped the reform radar. One benign interpretation is perhaps that the government and the RBI were more keen on freeing other rates and setting the cart firmly before enlarging it and bringing the SB accounts into its ambit. Further, SB accounts affect a large number of people and even for diehard reformers there is the fear that the process could hurt the lower income groups and upset the apple cart. It is not surprising that “financial inclusion” became the battle cry alongside reform tunes. And they could afford to keep the SB deregulation in the bottom drawer.
Monetary and Credit Policy of RBI The RBI did take up the issue for consideration in 2002 and expressed its views clearly. In its monetary and credit policy for 2002-03, it said that in the environment of deregulated interest rate there was an apparent case for deregulation. It took the view: However, considering the fact that bulk of such savings are held by households, including households in rural and semi-urban areas, on balance, it is not considered as opportune to deregulate the interest rate on savings account for the present.
It decided that the then effective rate of 3.4% was reasonable in relation to interest rates on short-term instruments. The RBI examined the issue again in its monetary and credit policy for 2006-07. It was dismissive of deregulation and said, Based on a view of current monetary and interest rate conditions, including a careful consideration of the suggestions received from the IBA [Indian Banks Association], it is considered appropriate to maintain the status quo while recognising that deregulation of this interest rate is essential for product innovation and price discovery in the long run.
After this review, the issue would lie in the coffin for four years. For no known reason, it was given a new life in the Second Quarter Review of Monetary Policy for 2010-11 announced on 2 November 2010. The RBI drew attention to the deregulation of interest rates on all deposits other than SB and felt the need for progressive deregulation including the interest on SB accounts. It undertook “to prepare a discussion paper which will delineate the pros and cons of deregulating the savings bank deposits interest rates” to elicit feedback from the general public. The discussion paper was posted on the website of the RBI on 28 April 2011. Pending public response and examination of the issue, the RBI raised the interest rate on SB accounts from 3.5% to 4%. It was in the Second Quarter Review issued on 24 October that the RBI announced its decision to deregulate SB rates. The RBI’s papers and studies are generally scholarly and draw on a variety of academic and banking expertise. Sadly, the analysis of SB deregulation in the paper
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is superficial if not cavalier. It explained how it “evoked wide-ranging responses from a cross-section of stakeholders, ranging from the suggestion that savings bank deposits should not be deregulated to the suggestion that it should be deregulated completely”. It goes on to add that the RBI had weighed the pros and cons of deregulation and felt, on balance, that “the time is ripe to move forward and complete the process of deregulation of interest rates”. Is the timing ripe or appropriate? There are serious doubts.
Response to Deregulation The response to deregulation has been varied. Some of the western analysts are enthusiastic over deregulation. News reports clearly indicate that the IBA is a divided house. It is evident that public sector banks are against deregulation. One official of the SBI said,4 “from a customer’s point of view, it may look like a good measure, but deregulation will lead to volatility in the banking system it will lead to rate wars among banks. Moreover, customers in India are getting better returns on savings accounts. In countries such as the US, a customer gets 1% to 2% on deposits.” There are several reports and studies which indicate the impact of deregulation on the course of interest rates and on the balance sheets, especially profitability and asset liability management (ALM). One analyst estimated (Munshi 2011) that the “additional interest that banks need to pay on savings will reduce the profit ability (of the entire) banking sector by 12.85%”. There are genuine concerns over the longer-term impact of SB deregulation. Though the RBI has attempted an examination of connected issues, its examination lacks depth and does not even capture the major concerns expressed in its own FSR issued in June 2011.
other deposits (terms deposits, time deposits and dated securities, etc), the major endeavour of the RBI was to bring about a system of prime lending rates (PLR) which is not replaced by base rate (BR). It cannot be said that the PLR (or the latest BR) has brought about dispensation of funds at a rate expected of a “free market” or those demanded by India Inc. The RBI continues to grapple with issues like discrimination (lending at sub-PLR), opacity, etc. It is a work in progress and the RBI will have to continue its battles with the BR (Subramanian 2009). In the context of PLR, it was observed that the banks had to grapple with legacy costs and other elements attached to funding costs and they were greatly helped by the availability of low cost funds, i e, CASA. In the absence of CASA, the PLR or BR will not remain where it is currently. Rock solid balances estimated at 90% of CASA provide the ballast to keep the PLR or BR at current levels. It was for this reason that it was treated as “core” in the ALM calculations. If CASA are deregulated they may not remain at the “core” and may turn volatile. Even in the latest guidelines5 issued by the RBI on the BR the illustrative methodology given for computation of BR includes “time deposits, current deposits and savings deposits”. When CASA is freed, is it theoretically permissible to treat them as “core”? One cannot eat the cake and have it too. CASA are free funds which can flit from bank to bank in search of higher returns and
in the absence of a code of conduct among banks. Banks with low CASA ratios like Kotak Mahindra, Yes Bank and IndusInd have already hiked SB rate by 2%. Foreign banks will be more aggressive as they are not burdened with high CASA ratios. There is an assumption in the RBI analysis that deregulation may not generate unhealthy competition. This is questionable. Much will depend on the quest for liquidity in the context of the availability of liquidity through Liquidity Adjustment Facility (LAF) or other channels. Even in the US there are reports that there is a race for seeking deposits. As the Wall Street Journal reported (Silver and Pilon 2011), “historically low interest rates, tough new capital requirements and heightened competition among brokerage firms are prompting banks to dangle juicy incentives to a group of customers that not long ago were wall flowers: depositors”. They are said to offer cash drawbacks over and above interest payments.
Asset Liability Mismatches The RBI dismisses “asset liability mismatches arising out of deregulation” as “misplaced”. This is based on the notion that CASA will continue to be “core” for ALM. As argued earlier, this is a pathetic fallacy. CASA cannot be treated as core once it is deregulated. The other advantage the RBI hopes for is better transmission of policy rates. This is the angst of a central bank when its tools lose efficacy. It is more like an ageing
Unhealthy Competition Some banks have expressed a concern over unhealthy competition that could come about with deregulation. The RBI dismisses it on the experience of deregulation of other deposits done in the earlier years. Unfortunately, there is no parallel between the two. While dealing with Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
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wrestler flexing his muscles to prove his prowess. If the deposits, other than SB, which constitute a higher share of deposits, have not helped in bringing about transmission of policy rates, the tail of SB deposits may not be expected to bring it about. In any case, rate transmission is a tricky area and even in countries like the UK, the transmission takes place after a lag or not at all. In the US, a regime of zero interest rate and the flooding of QE2 funds have not brought about credit transfers to industry. It seems the RBI has taken a silos approach in analysing the issues disregard ing its own big picture given in the FSR. The FSR flags many major concerns affecting the stability of our banking system. The overarching ones are about lack of liquidity (or tight liquidity conditions) and increasing reliance on borrowed funds. The concerns about liquidity flow from the growing maturity mismatches in conjunction with a reduction in the share of liquid assets to total assets. As the FSR explains, “concerns about increasing reliance on borrowed funds were further exacerbated by growing
mismatches in the maturity profile of deposits and advances...These mismatches entailed considerable rollover risks for banks.” FSR clearly admits that concerns over reliance on market borrowing “were alleviated by the accessibility of banks to stable low cost deposits (current account and savings account-CASA deposits)which stood about 35% of total deposits”. In short, CASA deposits have provided the life boat to our banks in their struggle to meet the current challenges. If the life boat is taken away, what will be the consequences? The liquidity problem has plagued our banks even after the Lehman shock was absorbed through the provision of liquidity of Rs 80,000 crore. Apart from worries over asset liability mismatches, our banks need to be on guard against currency mismatches. There are growing concerns over concentration of assets in retail, commercial estate and infrastructure sectors. In meeting some of these challenges they have been helped by the availability of low cost funds. Rating agencies are already on the prowl to downgrade premier banks like the SBI. The government is struggling to provide support through budgetary transfers to
improve their capital adequacy ratios. At such a juncture if they are deprived of CASA funds, it will hurt their interests more and deregulation may result in destabilisation. It may satisfy the whim of undertaking reform, but may not serve any larger purpose. Notes 1 Das, Ashis (2011), “Savings Bank Accounts: Interest Rate Deregulation”, IIT Bombay Technical Report, May, available at http://dspace.library.iitb. ac.in/jspui/handle/10054/1734 2 Reserve Bank of India (2011a), “Deregulation of Savings Bank Deposit Interest Rate: A Discussion Paper”, available at rbidocs.rbi.org.in/rdocs/Content/PDFS/DPS270411F pdf 3 Reserve Bank of India (2011b), Financial Stability Report 2011, June, available at rbidocs/rbi.org.in/ rdocs/Publications Report/Pdfs/FSR 140611 FL pdf 4 Shruti Verma (2011), “Banks Oppose Free Saving Rate”, 24 October, available at http://www.mydigitalfc.com/print/97402 5 Reserve Bank of India (2010), “Guidelines on Base Rate”, RBI/2009-10/390 dated 9 April.
References Munshi, Neil (2011): “India’s Banks: A Much Needed Short in the Arm – or One in the Foot?”, Financial Times, 25 October. Silver, Jessica and Mary Pilon (2011): “The Great Customer Courtship”, The Wall Street Journal, 12 February. Subramanian, K (2009): “Battle against the Prime Lending Rate”, Economic & Political Weekly, 21 November, Vol XLIV, No 47.
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december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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Euthanasia: A Social Science Perspective Aneeta A Minocha, Arima Mishra, Vivek R Minocha
The social sciences, more specifically medical sociology/ anthropology have extensively probed issues related to the body, illness and pain. However, issues surrounding death and dying, more specifically, euthanasia are relatively conspicuous by their absence. This article seeks to show up the contexts that define euthanasia as a “just” option. It attempts to unravel other issues like the quality of end-of-life care, familial support, degree of dependency, agency in decision-making, ethical dilemma and related discourses that help us understand euthanasia in cross-cultural contexts.
The paper was originally prepared by Aneeta Minocha and has been revised posthumously by the second and third authors. Aneeta A Minocha was with the Delhi School of Economics, University of Delhi, Arima Mishra (
[email protected]) is with the Institute of Public Health, Bangalore and Vivek R Minocha (
[email protected]) was with the University College of Medical Science, University of Delhi.
T
he social, cultural, and legal acceptability of euthanasia or death with dignity is of late finding greater space for open public discussions in many countries including India.1 The Supreme Court of India’s judgment on the Aruna Shanbaug case opens the doors to a consideration of several issues including the right to a dignified death (suggesting decriminalisation of attempts to suicide), distinctions between active and passive euthanasia and more importantly facilitates a wider discussion on the rather sensitive issues of death and dying.2 Even though the term euthanasia is relatively of recent origin, the notion of a good death is an old one which is often culturally constructed. In India, for example, there has always been a cultural acceptance of the idea of self-administered death couched in spiritual practices such as moksha. Such notions of death in the Hindu and Jain scriptures, for instance, relate it to specific notions about the body and purpose of human life. Swami Prabhananda (2008: 64) notes that in many eastern cultures the “death of a body is not the end of the real entity – which is none other than the soul. Man’s life on earth provides an opportunity to do moral exercises…”. Hockey (1990) in a rare anthropological work on experiences of death demonstrates that conceptions of both death and life are expressed and generated through culturally specific forms and/or institutions. Singh (2008) discusses the culture sensitive end-of-life care of the elderly and terminally ill patients through a specific case study of Kashi Labh Mukti Bhawan, Banaras which houses a large number of such old and ill people. Here, the rituals of dying are facilitated within the religio-cultural matrix of Hinduism that constructs death as a migration from one life to another mediated by the mortal death. The practice of santhara that entails the voluntary giving up of one’s life through fasting is considered among the Jain community as the ultimate route to moksha and
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is taken when one feels that life has served its purpose. While there is hardly any research on this practice, anecdotal evidence shows that it is the old and patients with debilitating illness who opt for santhara.3 Elsewhere, in countries like Iceland, issues of life and death are discussed with reference to the almighty, destiny and natural laws (Einarsdottir 2009). The decision to end life must then be understood in such cultural notions about life and death. However the use of the term euthanasia as a viable medical option to a permanent vegetative state draws its rationale on several other grounds, some of which are discussed here.
Euthanasia as ‘Death with Dignity’ Euthanasia can be traced back to the intellectual developments and medical technological innovations in industrially advanced countries in the early 20th century that provided human beings greater control over the processes of life. Such control helped in framing world views in which life and death found new social meanings and interpretations. The human lifespan that increased due to the more powerful and effective ways of managing and preventing diseases did not however guarantee a better quality of life (in whichever way such quality of life is understood). Howarth and Jefferys (1996) argue that the irrelevance of the scientific paradigm in ascribing meaning to human lives has triggered a number of popular responses one of which is to shift the management of dying from professionals to the dying persons themselves to control end-of-life decisions including euthanasia. Such a shift needs to be located in the neo-liberal ideology that promotes the idea of a rational, active individual/consumer making the right choices and taking responsibility for himself/herself. 4 “Patient empowerment”, “expert patient”, “active patients” are the new catch phrases in healthcare literature. This implies that the patient, far from being a passive and submissive recipient of the doctors’ orders, is an empowered and informed person endowed with several rights vis-à-vis the doctors to protect his/her own interests. Chief among these rights is the patient's right to select a line of treatment, refuse treatment altogether or seek active intervention to end life and die with dignity.
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Such perspectives on the rights of the patient to die with dignity and articulate death around positive connotations like “dignified” death, “respectable” and “peaceful” death in a manner which upholds that good death is preferable to a very poor quality of living. The positive notions of good death are contrasted with such concepts of life as “good quality of life”, “meaningful, respectable, useful and productive life”. Consequently the inert, passive and meaningless vegetative existence characterised by pain, and suffering which puts one at the mercy of others is not considered worth living. The patient and his family members, therefore, have an option to put an end to such an existence and let the person die a dignified and quick death. The argument for a poor quality of life contrasted with dignified death needs to be read in the context of the declining role of family as a supportive and caring unit to manage the sick. This responsibility of the family in many places has passed on to governmental and private agencies and trained medical personnel. In India, however, there is hardly any organised effort towards end-of-life care and hence patients with debilitating illness are forced to depend on family members with or without willing support. Such a degree of dependency, studies have shown, is closely linked to the desire for euthanasia (Seale and Addington-Hall 1994, 1995a, b; Howarth and Jefferys 1996). Howarth and Jefferys (1996) rightly argue that euthanasia as an end-of-life decision reflects changes as much with professional-patients relationships as inter-general kin relationships. Discourses on death and dying hence need to be situated within the discourses on ageing. The rationale for euthanasia also draws from a utilitarian logic. The terminally ill and those who are in a vegetative state of existence require more care as they are dependent on others for even the simple tasks of daily life. Such a state of existence has potentially extensive financial implications for the medical establishment, the State as well as the family. The rising cost is an important consideration in the medical management of terminally ill and nonsalvageable patients. It covers not only the monetary expenditure but also the financial
26
and social opportunities lost, the time, effort, and emotional energy expended by the family on the patient and the diversion of hospital resources and efforts of the care-givers from caring for the curable sick to keeping alive (often artificially) nonsalvageable patients in hospital wards.5
Unpacking Pertinent Issues Euthanasia though argued to be a viable option on medical, economic, moral and ethical grounds, nevertheless has always been shrouded by debates and controversies all over the world. The case of Terri Schiavo in the US brings some of these controversies to the surface. This case led to long drawn legal battles over the issue of switching off the life support systems that were keeping alive the unconscious, non-salvageable Terry Schiavo for 14 years (BBC News 2005). This legal battle led the then President George Bush with his “care of life” advocacy to intervene to get the feeding tubes reinserted though briefly. On 18 March 2005 the feeding tubes supplying nutrition and fluids to the body of the 41-year old Terry, were removed. Terry’s parents fought to keep her alive by retaining the tube in a feeding position because they saw signs of consciousness in her. Michaels Schiavo, Terry’s husband and legal guardian, fought for removal of the tubes so that she could die peacefully and naturally. He contended that his wife
would not have wanted to live in this condition and would have opted for euthanasia but Terry had not left any written living will. On 31 March 2005, Terry died a slow death by starvation. In a contrasting outcome, Aruna Shan baug in India who has been bedridden in the KEM hospital in Mumbai in a permanent vegetative state for the last 38 years after a brutal sexual assault was allowed to live through a landmark Supreme Court judgment in March 2011. The Supreme Court rejected the plea for euthanasia filed by an author-friend of Aruna on the grounds that (a) Aruna’s medical conditions do not qualify as “brain dead” and that she breathes on her own, and (b) only the KEM hospital staff who have been the sole caregivers for so long are entitled to plead for euthanasia on her behalf (in the absence of a living will and involvement of any family member). Hence, unlike Terry Schiavo, Aruna Shanbaug has been allowed to live with the help of the emotional and medical nurturing of the hospital staff till her natural death and it is assumed that such a death would qualify for a dignified death. These episodes give us an opportunity to raise and understand several issues that are at stake on aspects of life, death and dying. Euthanasia, passive or active, raises the key issue of agency – “who does and who should control the decisions to hasten or procure death” (Howarth and Jefferys 1996).
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[email protected]. Registrar Jawaharlal Nehru University december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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Both the Terry Schiavo and Aruna Shanbaug cases discussed above highlighted the contentious issue of agency raising questions on who constitutes a “family” of the patient exercising the right to let her live or die. One of the major arguments against euthanasia is precisely that “the philosophy and respectability can be mutilated and used to suit anyone but the subject in question” (Duttagupta 2008: 254).6 In active euthanasia it is important to ask – how much do we know about why patients seek euthanasia? While more research is needed on the social contexts of end-of-life care and decisions, a few studies in the UK do talk about how factors like loss of autonomy, and the degree of dependency along with severity of irreversible suffering have been significantly linked to demands for end of life decisions (Seale and Addington-Hall 1994, 1995a and 1995b; Van den Block et al 2009) and how conversely patients have accepted the natural course of death despite severe physical discomfort in terminal illnesses in situations of strong family and physician support (Duttagupta 2008). The desire for euthanasia is associated with terminally ill patients but does the patient always know that he/she is a terminal case? Who informs him or her of this? Does every such patient accept this terminal status for him/herself? Zimmermann (2004) in a review of hospice and palliative care literature discusses the discourse on patients’ denial of terminal illness and impending death. Patients’ denial in this literature has been looked upon in a number of ways – as a conscious or unconscious defence mechanism, which might be healthy and denial as a non- compliant behaviour as it obstructs certain kinds of care. In the latter, such non- compliance is linked to the discourses on dying particularly in western society which invites patients to participate in the planning of death. Anecdotal evidence from other contexts like India shows that patients do not expect to be told about their terminal illness by the “good doctors”. Also, issues of life and death (in addition to the doctors) are also assumed to be managed by superior forces leaving room for expectations of a miraculous cure. Further, is the severely ill patient in an appropriate mental state in which he/she
can evaluate his life situation objectively and rationally as the advocates of euthanasia prefer it to be? Is it indeed possible to make decisions on one’s life and death, both of which are emotionally charged issues, without the involvement of one’s own and others’ sentiments and emotions? Should emotions be of lesser validity as compared to strict medical and economic grounds? Einarsdottir (2009) succinctly brings out the perplexed role of parents as emotional experts in end-of-life decisions of pre-term infants in Iceland. This aspect of emotion brings back the issue of agency – who should take the decisions for termination of life? While medical professionals and bioethicists use emotional involvement as an argument against the rights of parents to be involved in such end-of-life decisions, parents strongly feel that the child belongs to them and they have the right to decide the future of their children (ibid). Even when euthanasia is understood in the framework of the right of the patient to a dignified death, it is important to understand that rights of persons do not exist in a vacuum, but are exercised within the context of social roles – one’s own and those of others, which dovetail into each other. This also means that till the moment of death, a person, even if on his/her death bed, is a social being that carries meaning for others and is vested with social obligations and privileges towards them. A few anthropological literatures thus link the issue of end-of-life decisions and constructions of life and death to the notion of personhood (Kaufman 2000; Einarsdottir 2009; Kaufman and Morgan 2005). In many cultures, such as India, in which the autonomous individual is slowly emerging, the processes of life and death are carried out in social contexts in which religion, morality, social obligations, mutual support, etc, are the determining factors in any decision-making. The well-being of the larger units of family and kinship might be at stake in the individual’s living or dying. Therefore, others may or may not endorse the person’s decision to terminate his life, even though he may be in a vegetative state of existence. To take an example, in Hindu society there is a huge difference in the social and ritual status, rights and privileges of a married woman as compared to a widow. Therefore, even if
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the husband is in a coma, the woman is considered married and not denied the status, privileges and favours extended to married women till the husband’s last breath. In such cases, the wife would never easily opt for euthanasia for her husband. Further, exercising the right to a dignified death could also be problematic in situations of marginality based on ethni city, class and gender. Duttagupta (2008) by offering two contrasting cases of deaths of women in India and the US respectively raises precisely this issue to ask “how many Indian women know when and where to exercise their rights and dignity”? Considering the gender bias faced by many Indian women in their daily lives, can a right to a dignified death be asserted? Discourses on death with dignity hence need to be situated within processes of living with dignity in everyday contexts.
Conclusion This article makes an attempt to focus on issues surrounding euthanasia from a social science perspective. While the social sciences and more specifically sociology/ anthropology have contributed extensively on health, illness and suffering, contribution on issues around death is relatively scarce. While euthanasia is being discussed of late more openly in countries including India, it has largely remained a medical and legal issue. This article attempted to situate this in a social and cultural context to ask what kind of questions and issues are at stake. It sought to argue that euthanasia needs to be situated in related discourses on everyday life and living, personhood, constructions of death, rituals and symbolic aspects of dying and ageing in cross-cultural contexts. Euthanasia is deeply embedded in cultural traditions and it is important to study these to be effectively able to contribute to the current debates about legalisation of euthanasia. The discussion establishes that euthanasia even when seen in the framework of a right to dignified death becomes an emotive issue full of contradictions and irreconcilable ideological stances. The hierarchy of human and civil rights, the ranking of social positions occupied by the patient and the significant others in his reference group, the degree of the individual’s domination and assertiveness in decision-making on
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important events become contentious issues in giving a uniform practical shape to the concept of euthanasia. The analysis also establishes the need for more social science research to understand issues of life and death including end-of-life decisions like euthanasia.
Arima Mishra (2010): “Deconstructing Self-care in Biomedical and Public Health Discourses” in Arima Mishra (ed.), Health, Illness and Medicine: Ethnographic Readings (Delhi: Orient Blackswan). 5 The role of KEM hospital in Mumbai in taking care of Aruna Shanbaug for 38 years is an exceptional case of healthcare practice in India. 6 Similar arguments were put forward in the recent mercy killing plea by the 70-year old Karibasamma from Devenagre, Karnataka. For more details see www.dnaindia.com/bangalore/report_bangalore.
Notes 1 The recent Supreme Court judgment on Aruna Shanbaug, media reporting of sporadic cases of mercy killing plea including extensive coverage of the recent judgment and the bollywood film Guzaarish indicate this phenomenon. 2 See The Times of India, 8, 9 and 28 March 2011 (Bangalore edition) for the reporting of the judgment and debates around it. Passive euthanasia is letting a person die by withholding food and medicines and not undertaking activities to prolong life. Active voluntary euthanasia (AVE) is intentional intervention to end life or to expedite the process of death. 3 “The Fast Road to Moksha”, The Times of India (Bangalore edition), 12 January 2011, p 19. 4 For more details on this ideology and its implications on individual responsibility and healthcare,
References BBC, News World Edition (2005): “Brain Damaged Terri Schiavo Dies”, 31 March. Duttagupta, Chadralekha (2008) “Dying with Dignity” in S Chatterjee, Priyadarshan Patnaik and Vijayaraghavan M Chariar (ed.), Discourses on Ageing and Dying (Delhi: Sage). Einarsdottir, Jonina (2009): “Emotional Experts: Parents’ Views on End of Life Decisions for Preterm Infants in Iceland”, Medical Anthropology Quarterly, 23(1): 34-51. Hockey Jennifer L (1990): Experiences of Death: An Anthropological Account (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press). Howarth, Glennys and Margot Jefferys (1996): “Euthanasia: A Sociological Perspective”, British Medical Bulletin, 52(2): 376-85.
Reading the Signs at the Occupy Movement Arjun Jayadev
The Occupy movement with its myriad signs and slogans still appears to be an inchoate protest movement railing against economic inequality, free market capitalism and its most visible institution – Wall Street in the United States. But its unmistakable insistence on taking on the established political parties – including the Democrats – and its radical democratic form of organisation suggest a new ambitious grass-roots politics with the potential to mature further.
Arjun Jayadev (
[email protected]) is at the economics department, University of Massachusetts Boston.
28
1 A Revolutionary Moment? The Beginning is Near – Sign at Occupy Wall Street
T
he Occupy movement, begun as a seemingly small act of protest in early September as a response to a viral campaign by the magazine Adbusters has spread across the US and indeed the world with astonishing speed. At last count there were over 2,000 cities and towns worldwide that had joined in the protests. In initial responses, the media and commentators struggled to make a coherent analysis of these developments and the implications for the US polity. Much like the only other previous movement with this flavour (the anti-globalisation movement that peaked around 2000) there are a large and disparate set of issues and engagements which have coalesced together in a seemingly inchoate but potentially powerful movement. Visiting the sites (my own engagement has been in Boston and only a little in New York), one is struck by the multiple overlapping
Kaufman, Sharon R (2000): “In the Shadow of ‘Death with Dignity’: Medicine and Cultural Quandaries of the Vegetative State”, American Anthropologist, 102(1): 69-84. Kaufman, Sharon R and Lynn M Morgan (2005): “The Anthropology of the Beginnings and Ends of Life”, Annual Review of Anthropology, 34: 317-41. Prabhananda, Swami (2008): “The Art of Dying with Dignity” in S Chatterjee, Priyadarshan Patnaik and Vijayaraghavan M Chariar (ed.), Discourses on Ageing and Dying (Delhi: Sage). Seale, Clive and Julia Addington-Hall (1994): “Euthanasia: Why Do People Want to Die Earlier”, Social Science and Medicine, 39(5): 647-54. – (1995a): “Euthanasia: The Role of Good Care”, Social Science and Medicine, 40 (5): 581-87. – (1995b): “Dying at the Best Time”, Social Science and Medicine, 40 (5): 589-95. Singh, Umesh (2008): “Culture Sensitive and Culture Specific End of Life Care: A Case Study Based on Kashi Labh Mukti Bhawan” in S Chatterjee, Priyadarshan Patnaik and Vijayaraghavan M Chariar (ed.), Discourses on Ageing and Dying (Delhi: Sage). Van den Block, L, R Deschepper and J Bilsen et al (2009): “Euthanasia and Other End of Life Decisions and Care Provided in Final Three Months of Life: Nationwide Retrospective Study in Belgium”, British Medical Journal, 339b 2772: 1-8. Zimmermann, Camilla (2004): “Denial of Impending Death: A Discourse Analysis of Palliative Literature”, Social Science and Medicine, 54: 1769-80.
and sometimes contradictory strands that are visible; from extreme libertarian demands (“End the Fed”) to old school socialist credos (“Free School for All”), to more specific grievances (“Destroy the Incarceral State”). Faced with the burgeoning movement, and the realisation that a wide variety of Americans had broad sympathy with the group, commentators have tried to create their own narratives about the movement. The two dominant strategies, given the rightward slant of the media in the country are: • To categorise it as a left-wing version of the Tea Party, albeit without the nous or the coherence, and without adequate clarity about its demands. • To portray it as a deeply anti-social barbarian horde seeking to stir up hatred, always at the edge of violent action, without purpose, and only seeking handouts from the public purse. These narratives, ranging from sympathetically concerned to virulently hostile in their tones, speak more to the knee-jerk impulse to classify the movement into something recognisable and mouldable within the frame of the two-party system – primarily as a potential grass-roots advocacy group for the Democrats. These readings are narrow and miss the point. In fact, the movement may eventually be
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COMMENTARY
important events become contentious issues in giving a uniform practical shape to the concept of euthanasia. The analysis also establishes the need for more social science research to understand issues of life and death including end-of-life decisions like euthanasia.
Arima Mishra (2010): “Deconstructing Self-care in Biomedical and Public Health Discourses” in Arima Mishra (ed.), Health, Illness and Medicine: Ethnographic Readings (Delhi: Orient Blackswan). 5 The role of KEM hospital in Mumbai in taking care of Aruna Shanbaug for 38 years is an exceptional case of healthcare practice in India. 6 Similar arguments were put forward in the recent mercy killing plea by the 70-year old Karibasamma from Devenagre, Karnataka. For more details see www.dnaindia.com/bangalore/report_bangalore.
Notes 1 The recent Supreme Court judgment on Aruna Shanbaug, media reporting of sporadic cases of mercy killing plea including extensive coverage of the recent judgment and the bollywood film Guzaarish indicate this phenomenon. 2 See The Times of India, 8, 9 and 28 March 2011 (Bangalore edition) for the reporting of the judgment and debates around it. Passive euthanasia is letting a person die by withholding food and medicines and not undertaking activities to prolong life. Active voluntary euthanasia (AVE) is intentional intervention to end life or to expedite the process of death. 3 “The Fast Road to Moksha”, The Times of India (Bangalore edition), 12 January 2011, p 19. 4 For more details on this ideology and its implications on individual responsibility and healthcare,
References BBC, News World Edition (2005): “Brain Damaged Terri Schiavo Dies”, 31 March. Duttagupta, Chadralekha (2008) “Dying with Dignity” in S Chatterjee, Priyadarshan Patnaik and Vijayaraghavan M Chariar (ed.), Discourses on Ageing and Dying (Delhi: Sage). Einarsdottir, Jonina (2009): “Emotional Experts: Parents’ Views on End of Life Decisions for Preterm Infants in Iceland”, Medical Anthropology Quarterly, 23(1): 34-51. Hockey Jennifer L (1990): Experiences of Death: An Anthropological Account (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press). Howarth, Glennys and Margot Jefferys (1996): “Euthanasia: A Sociological Perspective”, British Medical Bulletin, 52(2): 376-85.
Reading the Signs at the Occupy Movement Arjun Jayadev
The Occupy movement with its myriad signs and slogans still appears to be an inchoate protest movement railing against economic inequality, free market capitalism and its most visible institution – Wall Street in the United States. But its unmistakable insistence on taking on the established political parties – including the Democrats – and its radical democratic form of organisation suggest a new ambitious grass-roots politics with the potential to mature further.
Arjun Jayadev (
[email protected]) is at the economics department, University of Massachusetts Boston.
28
1 A Revolutionary Moment? The Beginning is Near – Sign at Occupy Wall Street
T
he Occupy movement, begun as a seemingly small act of protest in early September as a response to a viral campaign by the magazine Adbusters has spread across the US and indeed the world with astonishing speed. At last count there were over 2,000 cities and towns worldwide that had joined in the protests. In initial responses, the media and commentators struggled to make a coherent analysis of these developments and the implications for the US polity. Much like the only other previous movement with this flavour (the anti-globalisation movement that peaked around 2000) there are a large and disparate set of issues and engagements which have coalesced together in a seemingly inchoate but potentially powerful movement. Visiting the sites (my own engagement has been in Boston and only a little in New York), one is struck by the multiple overlapping
Kaufman, Sharon R (2000): “In the Shadow of ‘Death with Dignity’: Medicine and Cultural Quandaries of the Vegetative State”, American Anthropologist, 102(1): 69-84. Kaufman, Sharon R and Lynn M Morgan (2005): “The Anthropology of the Beginnings and Ends of Life”, Annual Review of Anthropology, 34: 317-41. Prabhananda, Swami (2008): “The Art of Dying with Dignity” in S Chatterjee, Priyadarshan Patnaik and Vijayaraghavan M Chariar (ed.), Discourses on Ageing and Dying (Delhi: Sage). Seale, Clive and Julia Addington-Hall (1994): “Euthanasia: Why Do People Want to Die Earlier”, Social Science and Medicine, 39(5): 647-54. – (1995a): “Euthanasia: The Role of Good Care”, Social Science and Medicine, 40 (5): 581-87. – (1995b): “Dying at the Best Time”, Social Science and Medicine, 40 (5): 589-95. Singh, Umesh (2008): “Culture Sensitive and Culture Specific End of Life Care: A Case Study Based on Kashi Labh Mukti Bhawan” in S Chatterjee, Priyadarshan Patnaik and Vijayaraghavan M Chariar (ed.), Discourses on Ageing and Dying (Delhi: Sage). Van den Block, L, R Deschepper and J Bilsen et al (2009): “Euthanasia and Other End of Life Decisions and Care Provided in Final Three Months of Life: Nationwide Retrospective Study in Belgium”, British Medical Journal, 339b 2772: 1-8. Zimmermann, Camilla (2004): “Denial of Impending Death: A Discourse Analysis of Palliative Literature”, Social Science and Medicine, 54: 1769-80.
and sometimes contradictory strands that are visible; from extreme libertarian demands (“End the Fed”) to old school socialist credos (“Free School for All”), to more specific grievances (“Destroy the Incarceral State”). Faced with the burgeoning movement, and the realisation that a wide variety of Americans had broad sympathy with the group, commentators have tried to create their own narratives about the movement. The two dominant strategies, given the rightward slant of the media in the country are: • To categorise it as a left-wing version of the Tea Party, albeit without the nous or the coherence, and without adequate clarity about its demands. • To portray it as a deeply anti-social barbarian horde seeking to stir up hatred, always at the edge of violent action, without purpose, and only seeking handouts from the public purse. These narratives, ranging from sympathetically concerned to virulently hostile in their tones, speak more to the knee-jerk impulse to classify the movement into something recognisable and mouldable within the frame of the two-party system – primarily as a potential grass-roots advocacy group for the Democrats. These readings are narrow and miss the point. In fact, the movement may eventually be
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COMMENTARY
better seen as another recent manifestation of the rich American radical tradition – a continuation of a line which has included abolitionists, feminists, civil rights workers, environmentalists and gay and lesbian activists. Whether or not this movement will appear to be as important as previous ones in terms of their success in advocating for freedom, equality and genuine democracy remains to be seen; but the intention is plain. At the time of writing, the future of the movement is somewhat unclear. In several sites, perhaps most importantly in New York and Oakland, the permanent encampments have been disbanded and left the movement in need of rebuilding. It remains to be seen whether indeed “the beginning is near” as a poster had it. Having said this, it is instructive to look at the kinds of signs and slogans that have animated the movement thus far and which fly on flags at various occupy sites I have visited. They speak quite directly to the overriding failings of US democracy and capitalism to deliver anything approaching a just and tenable system; failings that will not disappear without continued political and social pressures to remedy them.
2 Failings of ‘Free Market Capitalism’ “Hey Capitalism, It’s not you, It’s us. Just kidding. It’s you” “The banks got bailed out, we got sold out” “Debt is Slavery” “USA=United Shareholders Association” “Free Enterprise is not a Hunting Licence” –Signs at Occupy Wall Street and at Occupy Boston
Signs around Occupy Wall Street and Occupy Boston make pointed, sardonic reference to the nature of capitalism in the US over the last few decades. While the Occupy movement is a broad tent, including a relatively strong libertarian element, there is a clear sense of dislike for the current operational system of capitalism. Indeed, the movement in this is echoing a trend that has been noted by pollsters in the last few years: a marked fall in the number of people who view “free market capitalism” positively. A well-known Pew poll1 from 2010 showed that a narrow plurality of Americans viewed capitalism favourably (53%), a smaller group than in Brazil or
Figure 1: Income Gains by Quantile (%) 300
250
200
150
100
50
0 Lowest Quintile
Second Quintile
Middle Quintile Fourth Quintile 81st - 99th percentiles Income Group
Top 1%
Source: “Trends in the Distribution of Family Income: 1979 to 2007”, Congressional Budget Office, available at. http://www.cbo. gov/ftpdocs/124xx/doc12485/10-25-HouseholdIncome.pdf
China. Equally importantly, about 43% of millennials (those between 18 and 30 years of age) saw “socialism” and “capitalism” as positive. What is interesting here is that a plurality of young Americans do not see capitalism as a positive and that both “isms” gain the same support in a test of political rhetoric. The overwhelming sense among the protestors is that they have been betrayed by what may be termed the “Horatio Alger” myth that has become the imagined narrative of Americans. The foundational idea that leading an exemplary life in the face of adversity can allow anyone to climb from rags to riches seems cynical and bare in the face of the events of the last three years. When Wall Street blew itself up in a paroxysm of greed and foolishness, not only did the state intervene to support it (an intervention that was in evitable given how overgrown and central to the US economy the financial sector had become), it also took down the whole US economy with it. The homeowners who have lost savings and their main asset through no fault of their own and the students who face dire futures with large overhanging debts and poor job market opportunities have been in their own terms “sold out” by the powers that be and condemned to a life of debt slavery. While much of their anger has been directed at Wall Street – the nerve centre of those pulling for the creditor class – there is a larger underlying anger at the nature of corporate capitalism itself. There is recognition that the social contract has
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been overwhelmingly slanted in favour of corporations, even to the extent of declaring them to be persons who have a legitimate say in funnelling money to politicians as an expression of their free speech. The protestors harbour the bitter sense that American corporations have been doing well and have recovered, at their expense. In all of these suspicions, the facts are overwhelmingly with the protestors. While a complete accounting of the ways in which the crisis has been disproportionately imposed on working class Americans is beyond the scope of this article, it may be worth pointing out a few key statistics. The median duration of unemployment is the highest on record, and for the first time since statistics have been kept, an unemployed person is more likely to drop out of the labour force entirely than to get a job.2 Student debt is around $1 trillion, and the average student debt is around $23,000 (or roughly about 50% of gross domestic product (GDP) per capita).3 According to the housing data firm CoreLogic, in 2010, about 11.1 million households, or 23.1% of all mortgaged homes, were underwater (i e, their values were below that at which they were bought). At the same time, corporate profits as a percentage of GDP which saw a sharp decline in 2008 has recovered to reach historical heights in 2011.4 The major banks are sitting on nearly $2 trillion of cash while making some profit from a neat carry trade (borrowing at the fed funds rate of about 0.25% and lending to the US treasury at
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COMMENTARY
higher rates). In the face of this manifestly lopsided rebalancing, the protestors see the system as unfair and destructive and are attempting to articulate this as a feature of the latest manifestation of rentier capitalism.
3 Solidarity “We are the 99%” “We are Too Big to Fail” “Plutocrats Go Back to Your Planet” “We are the Tired Poor Huddled Masses” “Due to the Recent Budget Cuts, the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been Switched Off” –Signs at Occupy Wall Street
The blogger J W Mason writes: Most of us very seldom experience ourselves as political agents, in the sense of being active participants in the collective decisionmaking of our community. For better or worse, most of the time we delegate collective decision-making to specialists who represent us more or less faithfully, as the case may be. The only reason for protest – for any kind of mass politics – is that this system has
broken down. The message of any protest is: There is a political subject, a We, that is not being represented.5
The comparison of the Occupy movement with earlier struggles might appear strained at the current juncture. The movement is in its infancy and while it has garnered some attention, the political success of other earlier political protests such as the civil rights or gay and lesbian movements in terms of actual legislation and in changing the terms of debate are manifestly greater. Having said this, it should not be forgotten that the early stages of many of those struggles were also simply about acknowledging solidarity in the face of systemic breakdowns and oppressions. Specific demands almost never come fully formed and movements at the outset begin by noting a political subject that is inadequately represented in the polity – whether these are African-Americans, immigrants, queer people or in this case “the 99%”.
The call to arms of the movement – and the one that has had the greatest resonance – has been the recognition of a common position of the great majority of Americans in the last few decades. A previously felt sense of social contract has been replaced by the idea that free market capitalism and a minimum of constraints on wealth accumulation serve everyone well. As families and individuals have come under more strain, the sense that the system works only for a few has become more acute. As several scholars have suggested, for the last couple of decades, the failure to achieve substantial improvements in one’s standard of living has been papered over by easier credit. When this was no longer viable, the vast majority of the American populace has seen their sense of well-being and hope for the future sharply shaken. The nature of the unbalanced growth is substantiated by the Congressional Budget Office’s latest report on growth by income quantile.
THE J.N. TATA ENDOWMENT for the Higher Education of Indians
SCHOLARSHIPS 2012-2013
“..to lift up the best and most gifted…” Applications are invited from Indian nationals for the J. N. TATA ENDOWMENT LOAN SCHOLARSHIPS for the academic year 2012-2013 for higher studies abroad in all disciplines and subjects.
WHO IS ELIGIBLE?
Applicants who are: (I) Indian nationals; and (II) (a) graduates of a recognised Indian university with a consistently good academic record; or (b) students in the final year of the degree course; or (c) mid-career professionals upto the age of 45, planning to go abroad for further research, specialisation or training. At the time of submitting the completed applications, candidates need not have the admission/award letters from the universities to which they have applied, for the academic year 2012-2013.
HOW TO APPLY?
Prescribed application forms will be available at the Administrative Office of the Endowment at Mulla House, 4th Floor, 51 M.G. Road, Fort, Mumbai 400 001 from December 5, 2011 to February 24, 2012. The application fee of Rs.100/- is to be paid in cash or by Money Order or a Demand Draft drawn in favour of “The J. N. Tata Endowment” mentioning the applicant’s full name and address for the Endowment to post the form. Completed application forms should reach the office of the Endowment not later than March 5, 2012.
THE SELECTION PROCESS
After the initial screening of applications, candidates will be shortlisted for an interview in person by subject experts. The final selection will be made on the basis of the interview which will be held in Mumbai between March and June 2012. For further details please visit the website: www.dorabjitatatrust.org/about/endowment.aspx DR. MRS. NAWAZ B. MODY December 3, 2011 Director
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COMMENTARY
Figure 1 (p 29) drawn from the report shows that the lowest quintile saw their real incomes grow by about 25% since 1979 while the highest percentile saw their income grow by over 250% during the same time. For decades the country had been told that inequality is the result of uneven education (particularly differences in college and non-college educated workers), but more and more data suggests that this is not true for the 99%. Instead, inequality in America is increasingly seen as the story of a small elite pulling away from everyone else including those who have college education. Bringing this fact to the forefront has been one of the signal achievements of the movement. Even conservative Republicans who defend the 1% as deserving of their riches must speak the language of 99% vs 1%. As the political adage goes, if you oppose me, while using my language, I am winning.
4 New Form of Political Engagement “Took our money, but didn’t give us change” (sign with picture of President Obama). “2nd Time I’ve Fought for My Country, 1st Time I’ve Known My Enemy” (Sign held by a Veteran). “Dump the Crony Do Nothing Congress”. “If Voting Made a Difference, It Would Already Have Made a Difference”. “Wall Street Should Buy Stocks, Not Politicians” “I Can’t Afford a Lobbyist, So I organise” –Signs at Occupy Wall Street and Occupy Boston
Perhaps the most baffling element of the movement to observers is its very deliberate eschewing of the current party system, and the lack of specificity in the demands that are put forward. The Democratic Party might have been the natural umbrella organisation for the movement to take its concerns through the political process. Spokespersons from its party regularly display sympathy for the aims of the movement (primarily in order to obtain votes) and yet, it has not benefited from the energy evinced. The reason however is clear. Unlike the Tea Party which had a top-down approach from the outset, the Occupy movement is deeply distrustful of the Democrats, and in particular, Obama’s betrayal of the
hopes of the youth vote. The willingness of the Democratic leadership to give up on support for the general population (whether accepting weak regulations of the financial sector or putting deficit reduction at the head of their agenda) has meant that the movement has no clear political home. At the same time, there is a widespread acceptance that the political system is ossified and corrupt with politicians up for sale to lobbying groups and corporates. This is not to say however that the movement has no potential future. Rather, a closer observation suggests that it is a deeply experimental space where a fundamental questioning and reimagining of the forms of political engagement is occurring. Anyone who has watched the very long “general assemblies” in the various encampments would be struck by the intensely democratic process. Important decisions generally require unanimous consent, and even a single member can stop decisions. This process sacrifices “efficiency” for radical democracy and consensus building. This has been an issue of deep concern and frustration for those who share the aims of the movement but wish to engage more directly with the existing political process. No Occupy movement has a spokesperson for example. The tensions between “democratic horizontalists” and “pragmatic verticalists” (in the parlance of those involved) may yet end up leading to disillusionment and fracturing of the movement, but at the moment, these groups are pulling together. Even the nature of the protest-redressing the failings of the political system through the occupation of highly visible urban real estate is something very unusual. While there have been occupations of offices and schools before (a not atypical form of protest in a university for example), the idea of physically occupying Wall Street, and pointing out and humiliating those at the nerve centre of financial power is an extremely powerful symbolic manoeuvre. In each Occupy site, there are now multiple working groups, thinking about ways in which to address issues ranging from community banking to racism to reforming the incarceral state and to town planning.
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The seeds are being laid for an ambitious grass-roots politics.
5 Postscript “This is So Not Over. Occupy.” “If you don’t know whats’ going on or what we’re talking about, turn off the news and tune into the movement. Occupy Together.” “The hottest place in Hell is reserved for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict. Occupy Everything.” “Sorry for the Inconvenience. We are trying to Change the World. Occupy.” – Signs at Occupy Wall Street
At the time of writing, the Occupy movement is reeling from heavy-handed and sharp crackdowns by police forces in different cities. In one sense this has only hastened the inevitable breaking up of the encampments. With the onset of winter, it would have been impossible to maintain the same level of energy and commitment that the movement has been able to generate. But the next few months will be critical. The movement has had some immediate successes and building on these with the same levels of enthusiasm will be imperative. Yet there are precedents for this – most recently in the form of the “indignados” in Spain, where an equally heterogenous and seemingly unfocused group of protestors left the centre of Madrid, only to return with redoubled force. That movement continues to generate support while being able to bring together hundreds of thousands of people in its marches, most recently in October). The Occupy movement has also tapped a certain rich vein of discontent and change. There is no reason that it should not continue to live on and strengthen as the objective conditions of life in the US do not improve. But the process of growing and transforming in order to “Occupy Everything” will require enormous effort and not a little luck. The work of the movement in the winter will decide that. Notes 1 ht t p://w w w.people-press.org /2010/05/04/ socialism-not-so-negative-capitalism-not-sopositive/ 2 ht t p://w w w.ne wde a l 20.or g /w p - c onte nt / uploads/2010/09/stagnant_labor_market.pdf 3 Source: project on student debt (http:// projectonstudentdebt.org/). 4 Source: Businessinsider.com (see http://www. businessinsider.com/what-wall-street-protestersare-so-angry-about-2011-10?op=1). 5 http://slackwire.blogspot.com/2011/10/this-iswhat-democracy-looks-like.html
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Looking for the Dust Rajmohan Gandhi
G
andhi is hard to banish. Not long ago, Lage Raho Munnabhai reintroduced him with a bang. More recently, Gandhi’s face provided the backdrop for a fasting Anna Hazare. In between, US President Barack Obama announced that the one person, living or dead, he would like to dine with is Gandhi. But even as Gandhi remains in conversation and a growing number of universities offer “Gandhian Studies”, his life, role and politics are receiving an increasing amount of critical scrutiny. This should be welcomed. In 2008, an American writer, Arthur Herman, wrote Gandhi & Churchill: The Epic Rivalry That Destroyed an Empire and Forged Our Age, and in 2010 Jad Adams, a Briton, focused on Gandhi’s undeniably eccentric chastity experiments in Gandhi: Naked Ambition. This year has seen Joseph Lelyveld’s Great Soul: Mahatma Gandhi and His Struggle with India, which, among other things, claims that “social reform” was Gandhi’s chief goal. Critics of the Herman book, which almost won a Pulitzer award, included those who felt that it treated Churchill unfairly and others who thought that it was Gandhi whom Herman failed to understand properly.
Belittling Gandhi’s Standing In this article, however, I propose to dwell on the Lelyveld book, chiefly because most reviews of Great Soul have failed, it seems to me, to notice or discuss its central thrust. In my reading, Lelyveld’s courteous style conceals a bid to belittle Gandhi’s standing. If I see someone’s influence as baleful, I am, of course, entitled to strive to weaken it. But Lelyveld is not frank. Knowing that his readers will detect or suspect it, Lelyveld disavows any wish to reduce Gandhi. He also makes other claims: At the risk of slighting [Gandhi’s] role as a political tactician, a field marshal of nonviolent resistance, or as a religious thinker
review article Great Soul: Mahatma Gandhi and His Struggle with India by Joseph Lelyveld (Noida, India: HarperCollins), 2011; pp XV + 425, Rs 699. and exemplar, I have tried to follow him at ground level… (xiii). I’m more fascinated by the man himself, the long arc of his strenuous life, than by anything that can be distilled as a doctrine (xiii) There’s a tragic element in Gandhi’s life, not because he was assassinated, nor because his noblest qualities inflamed the hatred in his killer’s heart. The tragic element is that he was ultimately forced, like Lear, to see the limits of his ambition to remake his world (p 27). My aim… is not to diminish a compelling figure now generally exalted as a spiritual pilgrim and secular saint… (xiii).
These claims and disavowals notwithstanding, the book seems designed to push Gandhi down to ground level, slight his role, and diminish his compelling figure. Disclosing no fascination with the man, it bypasses the drama of Gandhi’s life. Ignoring every scene of agony, ecstasy, surprise or boldness, Lelyveld takes pains to find the commonplace in the arc of Gandhi’s life. And despite the disclaimer quoted above, the book insinuates that Gandhi’s assassination represented a failure and was somehow more his fault than that of his assassins. As the book opens, Lelyveld quotes Gandhi’s sentence: “For men like me, you have to measure them not by the rare moments of greatness in their lives, but by the amount of dust they collect on their feet in the course of life’s journey”. Where another might notice the unusual character of a self-critical remark such as this (which was made, towards the close of Gandhi’s life, to his secretary and companion, the anthropologist Nirmal Kumar Bose), Lelyveld’s response – a perfectly valid one – seems to have been, “I will locate and exhibit Gandhi’s dust”. But why does he conceal the impulse? The much-discussed innuendo in respect
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of Gandhi’s relationship with Kallenbach confirms that Lelyveld is less than frank as an author. Without providing evidence, he suggests a homosexual affair while claiming he does no such thing. As M J Akbar put it in his review of the Lelyveld book, the author takes “recourse to nudge-nudge, wink-wink passages”.1 The “gay” insinuation (spread across 10 pages) should be placed against Lelyveld’s claim that the “specific narrative lines I’ve chosen…have to do with Gandhi the social reformer…” (p xiii). Did Lelyveld think the insinuation critical to an assessment of Gandhi’s success at social reform?
Breath of Disapproval Lelyveld is not comfortable with the attention Gandhi receives. Though he does not directly confess it, his narrative breathes disapproval if not irritation at sites where Gandhi is remembered. Referring to South Africa, Lelyveld says: Now new monuments are scattered about the land, reflecting the heroic role attributed to him in the country’s rewritten history… One of the new Gandhi memorials sits on a platform on the handsome old railway station in Pietermaritzburg. The plaque says his ejection from the train “changed the course” of Gandhi’s life. “He took up the fight against racial oppression”, it proclaims. “His active nonviolence started from that day.” “That’s… squishy as history. Gandhi claims in the Autobiography to have called a meeting on arrival in Pretoria to rally local Indians and inspire them to face up to their racial situation. If he did, little came of it (pp 7-8, emphasis added).
Lelyveld will not accept the significance of the train-and-coach journey of MayJune 1893, from Durban to Pretoria via Johannesburg, which helped transform Gandhi’s life within days of arriving in South Africa as a 23-year-old. On this long, complicated journey (requiring changes between train and horse-driven carriage and a stopover in Johannesburg), the newly-arrived barrister was tossed out, verbally abused, thrashed and refused
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accommodation. Tempted to return to India, Gandhi stayed on to fight the discrimination. All of Gandhi’s biographers, Indian and western, agree that the journey was a turning point. But Lelyveld is unimpressed and indeed disappointed that “a handsome old railway station” (no doubt of colonial origin) has to bear the weight now of a Gandhi plaque. As for the Pretoria meeting in June 1893 which, Lelyveld suggests, may or may not have occurred, Gandhi devoted two pages of his autobiography to it. He named the man in whose house the meeting took place, described what was discussed and the steps that followed, and referred to three young Indians present whom he taught English during subsequent weeks. Did Gandhi invent for his autobiography a meeting that was never held? When the autobiography was first published in the mid-1920s, Gandhi was a famous figure with many followers, but also with several foes, including in South Africa – and, we can be sure, in Pretoria. Any one of his critics in Pretoria would have jumped at a chance to denounce Gandhi’s account as an invention. Lelyveld “praises” Gandhi for his alleged success, throughout his lifetime, in selling a chosen image (or a series of chosen images) of himself. Impressed, but also miffed, that in 1931 an exchange of telegrams between an imprisoned and fasting Gandhi and the American journalist, William Shirer, was published in The Times of London, Lelyveld writes: “Gandhi’s camp, it seems, leaked the exchange to The Times,… a sign of how far ahead of his time he was in his aptitude for mani pulating the press” (p 230). So it is not Gandhi alone. People in his camp, too, are brilliant manipulators. From Poona, they can – in 1931, 16 years before Indian Independence – get The Times of London to do their bidding. That Gandhi’s “camp” in the colonised part of the world would want to send any publishable comment they get from their jailed, fasting, and, but for the fast, silenced leader to the leading newspaper of the coloniser is to Lelyveld not natural but mani pulative. He would have preferred the imprisoned Gandhi to have remained unheard in the imperial metropolis.
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Image-control is a charge that others too have levelled against Gandhi. The argument is that throughout a succession of different environments – including his boyhood home in Rajkot, the law colleges and vegetarian restaurants of London, courtrooms in Mumbai, ships between India and South Africa, in prisons, marches and ashrams in South Africa, during campaigns, fasts, imprisonments, train journeys and walks in India – Gandhi “manipulated” the media and came across the way he wished to. If so, Gandhi was a genius greater than what the most admiring of his admirers have suggested. Einstein’s 1939 remark is known to most – “Future generations will not believe”, etc, etc. Thirty years earlier, in 1909, Gopalkrishna Gokhale offered staggering praise for what he saw as the “nobility”, “bravery” and “exalted spirit” of the then 40-year-old Gandhi.2 But if one without money, diamonds, guns, whips or the ability to hire-and-fire, yet with foes who often had some of these things, could “manipulate” public opinion in his favour in different parts of the world, then he was more wondrous than what Einstein or Gokhale suggested. As to how Gandhi might have “manipulated” Einstein (whom he never met), Lelyveld does not answer the question, or raise it. And as for Gokhale, the seasoned politician in whose home Gandhi stayed for several weeks in 1900-01, perhaps he was a victim of Gandhi’s manipulative charm! The truth may be simpler. Gandhi lived in the open, and he lived up to what he said. Not perfectly, of course. But to a greater degree than most, the very human Gandhi lived up to what he said. He said he would risk death, jail, poverty, isolation and humiliation, but fight for India’s independence, for the unity of all Indians, for justice between Indians, and for the rights of the neediest. And he did that. Because his life was lived in the open, the world saw Gandhi doing what he was saying. Many in the world, therefore, loved him, even when they thought him too radical in some cases, or not radical enough elsewhere, or not considerate enough to his wife and sons. Authenticity was the secret of his “manipulative” skill. Yes, he was astute too. Anyone wanting to unite conflicting communities in India,
hold together a team of ambitious politicians who had compatibility issues, and foil the divide-and-rule strategies of an empire reluctant to let go of India had to be astute as well as open and true.
Questioning the Genuineness Barring two of them, Lelyveld questions the genuineness of every single one of Gandhi’s commitments, including to Indian rights in South Africa, dalit rights in India, and Hindu-Muslim partnership. He does not challenge Gandhi’s opposition to colonialism, except that he does not dwell on that opposition. And he agrees that Gandhi genuinely sought to make India clean and sanitary at the ground level. To Lelyveld, Gandhi’s failure to persuade Indians to clean their dirt was his ultimate frustration, his greatest defeat, his profoundest tragedy. This, we should recall, was how colonialists had always looked at Gandhi. In 1917, only two years after Gandhi’s return to India from South Africa, when he was fighting white indigo planters in Champaran, and also addressing India at the grass roots, a British official in Bihar called Merriman wrote to another called Morshead about Gandhi and his team: “Personally, I think that… they will soon get sick of trying to teach hygiene to the Bihari cultivator”.3 From then on until 1947, India’s British rulers steadily cheered Gandhi’s sanitation efforts, while predicting failure for those efforts, and even as they placed hurdles in his bids for unity between Hindus and Muslims and between caste Hindus and dalits. A man with Gandhi’s energy and character should focus, these rulers were clear, on what was really important, namely, basic cleanliness, and leave India’s governance, as well as relations between India’s conflicting groups, to those chosen for the task, namely, the empire’s guardians. And any unhappy Indian group – e g, the dalits, or the tribals, or the Muslims, or the caste Hindus – should look to the empire for relief, not to a neighbouring community, and certainly not to a native leader striving to bring the groups together, and most certainly not to a native leader with the gall to assert that what was prodding him against the empire was his conscience.
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Pointing out that the just-arrived 23-year-old barrister did not immediately “identify” with the indentured among South Africa’s Indians (p 10), Lelyveld says that Gandhi’s identification with the indentured population was not total, instant, or constant. He also stresses that Gandhi’s sentiments, 120 years ago, for South Africa’s blacks were inadequate and at times prejudiced. Both “accusations” are valid. But the opposite would have been more surprising. In fact, it was impressive that “scarcely three months after he arrived in the country” (p 9), a letter from the 23-year-old about the condition of the indentured and other Indians appeared in the Transvaal Advertiser. Protesting in the letter at the use of the word “coolie” for Indians, Gandhi wrote, “Indian is the most proper word for both the classes. No Indian is a coolie by birth.” Given Gandhi’s elite background and his “Barrister” title, this was an interesting (one ought to say early) sign of a broad engagement with the indentured. It also suggests that the Pretoria meeting that Lelyveld doubts ever took place may have been of some consequence.
Aids to Belittle Lelyveld is at his most strenuous in arguing (suggesting is the truer word; ever willing to imply a view, Lelyveld is usually careful not to express one) that the cause of the indentured workers is something that Gandhi “stole” from P S Aiyar, one of Gandhi’s contemporaries in South Africa, who edited African Chronicle, published from Durban. The suggestion can be contested. There is plenty of evidence that Gandhi was arguing for the rights of the indentured from 1894. Suppose, however, that the “charge” is valid; further suppose, assuming a difference, that Aiyar was often right and Gandhi often wrong in tactics or timing for struggles for the indentured. How would that detract from the Gandhi-led Great March of 1913, in which thousands of the indentured took part? A sound leader always incorporates ideas taken from colleagues and critics. But Lelyveld wants us to know that Aiyar (whose attitude to Gandhi alternated between bitter criticism and sweeping praise) was during some periods a better defender of the indentured than Gandhi.
If so, all honour to Aiyar, but it is not exactly dust for Gandhi. Lelyveld similarly wants us to know that another of Gandhi’s contemporaries, in this instance, one of Gandhi’s most constant comrades, Thambi Naidoo “sometimes had to press his leader to lead”. This, says Lelyveld, is “an impression [that] has lingered in the oral tradition of South African Tamils” (p 109). The impression is wholly believable. Gandhi would have been right to await clarity before launching a struggle in which participants would risk a lot, and Thambi Naidoo would have been right to press if he thought his leader was being too cautious. But it is not to exalt Aiyar and Naidoo that Lelyveld speaks to us; he uses them to belittle Gandhi. We should indeed learn more than we know about Aiyar and Naidoo, and several others like them. But that is not what Lelyveld is getting at. His point – again only hinted at – is that the Great March in fact was not all that great. It did not achieve all it set out to; it greatly hurt the participants. In a struggle of this kind, the adversary of the period is usually a better judge than a critic a hundred years later. Smuts in South Africa, Churchill in England and Linlithgow in India were better judges of the effectiveness of, respectively, the Great March of 1913 in South Africa, the Salt March of 1930, and 1942’s Quit India. Smuts breathed a sigh of relief when, after 1913, Gandhi left South Africa. Of the Salt March and accompanying acts, Churchill said that these acts had “inflicted such humiliation and defiance as has not been known since the British first trod the soil of India”.4 In a letter to Churchill, Linlithgow, the viceroy, called Quit India “by far the most serious rebellion since that of 1857”.5 Nelson Mandela would acknowledge that the Defiance Campaign Against Unjust Laws of 1952 that encouraged him as a youth – organised jointly by the African National Congress and the South African Indian Congress – had been modelled on Gandhi’s Great March of 1913. Though Lelyveld cites Mandela’s statement, he wants us to appreciate that Gandhi did not deserve to stand out in South Africa, and that in any case his major initiatives there were flawed. Lelyveld also strives laboriously to establish Gandhi’s failure, while in South
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Africa, to fight for African rights. Gandhi never said, nor can students of his life say, that fighting for African rights was his central goal in South Africa. It was not. Nor can it be said that from the start he was totally free of ignorance, prejudice or condescension in his attitude to black Africans. He was not. Still, on such questions he was a good deal ahead of most of his Indian contemporaries. In a major 1908 utterance in Johannesburg (which Lelyveld cites), he was in fact greatly in advance of his time. Referring to South Africa’s Africans, whites, Indians and Chinese, and naming each community, he said: If we look into the future, is it not a heritage we have to leave to posterity, that all the different races commingle and produce a civilisation that perhaps the world has not yet seen? (8: 323)
Lelyveld quotes inappropriate remarks that Gandhi on occasion made about Africans. Others including this reviewer have also cited these remarks, and they sound unbecoming. But Lelyveld is un willing to provide context or say in miti gation that some of the remarks were prompted by harshness towards Gandhi from convicts in the prison cell to which he was assigned. One of Lelyveld’s criticisms is that a Gandhi who objected to the use of the word “coolie” to describe an Indian, nonetheless used the word “Kaffir” for Africans (53). Extenuation is called for here too, for many Africans at this time also spoke of themselves as Kaffirs, whereas no Indian called himself or herself a coolie. From the start of his days in South Africa, Gandhi wanted Africans to receive their rights, and from the start he underlined the fact that as children of the soil their claim to political rights was stronger than that of South Africa’s Indians. In 1905, a 36-year-old Gandhi spelt out his horror at the enslavement of blacks in America, while penning a portrait of Lincoln for readers of Indian Opinion: It is believed that the greatest and the noblest man of the last century was Abraham Lincoln. Only a person who has a clear picture in his mind of the America of those days can properly appreciate Lincoln’s virtues and his services… Nobody saw anything wrong in openly selling Negroes and keeping them in slavery. The high and the low, the rich
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It is in the teeth of such evidence that Lelyveld uses the term “racist” (p 57) for words Gandhi used while objecting, in 1904, to a government-planned influx of Africans into an overcrowded and plaguehit location of Indians rather than in other places available. Gandhi’s words were certainly ill-advised: he complained against “dumping down all the Kaffirs of the town” and “the mixing of the Kaffirs with the Indians”. But the context was the overcrowding and the plague and a callous insistence from the authorities that “neither overcrowding nor insanitation could be helped”. Convinced that “every minute wasted over the matter merely hastens a calamity”, Gandhi also proposed, to the Johannesburg municipality, a practical step for averting it.6 Knowing this context, but not providing it clearly, and knowing also the dynamite packed into the word “racist”, Lelyveld still uses that word. There is no evidence of Gandhi using the term “Kaffir” after 1911, when he wrote in a letter, “I regard the Kaffirs, with whom I constantly work these days, as superior to us”. His comprehension of Africans grew steadily; he developed an understanding with John Dube, the Zulu leader who was one of the founders of the African National Congress and whose settlement existed close to Gandhi’s Phoenix settlement; and in 1936 (in Bardoli in Gujarat) Gandhi expressed to African-American visitors his belief that it would be “through the Negroes that the unadulterated message of non violence will be delivered to the world”.7 In 1995, Nelson Mandela wrote: “All in all, Gandhi must be forgiven these prejudices and judged in the context of the time and the circumstances”.8 Lelyveld, however, is less willing to be charitable. An example of Lelyveld’s acute scepticism is his reluctance to accept the genuineness of a 1914 conversation between John Dube and W W Pearson, a British pastor close to Indian protestors. In the conversation, Dube recalled his witnessing (the previous year, outside Durban city)
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the beating up by police of about 500 striking workers of Indian origin. Dube evidently expressed admiration to Pearson for the strikers whom he found to be firm yet non-violent despite the roughing-up they had received. “Some such conversation may have occurred”, Lelyveld grudgingly concedes (p 73). For real belief, he would have preferred an English-language document, dating from 1913, recording Dube’s reaction to what he had seen, instead of the translated text available at the University of KwaZulu-Natal. Years ago, this reviewer found an account of the conversation in the memoirs of Raojibhai Patel, one of Gandhi’s young colleagues in South Africa, and found it believable enough.9 There was no benefit for Raojibhai in inventing the Dube-Pearson conversation. Lelyveld underlines the fact that though living close to each other, Gandhi and Dube met only a few times, but he does quote Dube’s pro-Great March remark, published in his journal Ilanga. “Go for it, Gandhi”, Dube wrote (p 114). Rightly or wrongly, Gandhi felt, and Dube seemed to agree, that the African and Indian struggles would both advance if each remained separate for a time. Premature fusion would endanger both. But both realised, as did the white government, that the Indian struggle was setting an encouraging example for Africans. Already in 1908, Smuts had warned his constituents in the Transvaal that Indian defiance could lead one day to Kaffir defiance.10
Sceptical about Untouchability Predictably, Lelyveld is sceptical also about Gandhi’s positions on caste and untouchability. Addressing the recollections that Gandhi at times offered of the boy Uka who cleaned the lavatory in the Rajkot home where Gandhi grew up, and of his mother’s admonitions to Mohan against contact with Uka, Lelyveld does not exactly challenge Gandhi’s accounts of having disputed with his mother. But he does say this of the boy Gandhi: At the age of twelve, he didn’t think of helping Uka empty the Gandhi family’s latrine, and his readiness to shrug off untouchability didn’t instantly mature into a passion to see it abolished (p 31).
While the second of these two observations can be seen either as a statement of
fact or as a criticism, the former comes across only as a complaint. Where another might have stressed the independence of a 12-year-old boy disputing with his traditional mother, Lelyveld points out – correctly – that this particular 12-year-old was limited in his protest. Lelyveld’s attitude of questioning every statement that Gandhi makes about himself – his demand that Gandhi provide documentary evidence for every account from the past – is in sharp contrast with Lelyveld’s suspension of scepticism when it comes to Gandhi’s assassins. By his assassin’s own testimony, it was Gandhi’s announcement of his fast on the twelfth (of January) that had lit the fuse on the plot he and his main accomplice hatched starting that night; and it was the declaration three days later that the cabinet had reversed itself and decided to transfer the blocked reserves to Pakistan… that had clinched the secret verdict of the conspirators condemning him to death (p 339).
The slightest curiosity, the smallest wish to test the veracity of a killer’s statement in justification of his deed, would have led Lelyveld to an easy discovery of the well-established fact that the plot to kill Gandhi was hatched several months prior to 12 January 1948, and that the excuse of Gandhi’s fast and the Rs 55-crore transfer (Pakistan’s share of the reserves of undivided India) was a falsehood invented by Godse and his accomplices to supply the Indian public with a marketable reason for the assassination. But no curiosity or doubt was called for. “The assassin’s own testimony” sufficed. As between Gandhi and his adversaries, be they white, Hindu, Muslim, dalit or whatever, Lelyveld seems in each case to give the benefit of the doubt to the adversary.
Lelyveld’s Great Soul Who in the end is the subject of Lelyveld’s Great Soul? By his own testimony, it is the failed social reformer. Gandhi’s successful liberation struggle, which inspired women and men on all continents, is not worth looking at. That a Martin Luther King, a Dalai Lama, an Aung San Suu Kyi, and Native Americans, Latin Americans, black Africans, and Arabs, including Palestinians, have in their thousands been inspired by Gandhi to fight
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s imultaneously for justice and reconciliation is of no interest to Lelyveld. Such people do not feature in his book. Gandhi’s unceasing, and remarkably effective, commitment to Hindu-Muslim partnership, helping produce among other things an Indian Constitution that protects everyone’s rights, even if in reality these rights are often hard to secure, is also unworthy of notice. His equally uninterrupted passion that caste Hindus should face the injustices of Hindu society, a passion which helped shape the route for justice – by no means free of hurdles and potholes – that free India today offers to dalits, tribals, and backward castes, should likewise be ignored. Gandhi’s provocative claim that the conscience had to be a critical element in fights against injustice or empire, and his equally provocative claim that he wanted Indians to fight but also love the British, are also not worthy of discussion. Yet, Lelyveld must minutely examine whether, at each and every stage of Gandhi’s numerous campaigns for Indian rights in South Africa, from 1894 to 1914, some cause for heartburn was not given to Hindus or to Muslims, to Indian workers or to Indian merchants, to whites or to Africans. Similarly, in respect of the Gandhi-led campaigns in India, from 1915 to 1948, Lelyveld must scrutinise whether the dalits, the Hindu high castes, and the Muslims always and in each case bene fited as much as they were entitled to. His painstaking research proves to Lelyveld that the oft-conflicting desires of Gandhi’s different constituencies were seldom satisfied fully or at the same time. At different stages in South Africa and India, the Hindus or the Muslims, the caste Hindus or the dalits, the Africans or the Indians or the whites felt aggrieved. Time and again, Gandhi was forced to see that he could not remake his world the way he wanted to. This QED enables Lelyveld to say (sorry, to imply) that Gandhi failed when he went beyond social reform and strove to unite all Indians. Even while questioning some of Lelyveld’s research findings, others would say that this “failure” was not surprising to anyone, least of all to Gandhi. Indeed, given Indian and South African realities and the coloniser’s ability to divideand-rule, it was inevitable.
What was not inevitable, and what was surprising, was what did happen. Gandhi and the numberless Indians who marched at his side to prison did win freedom. And, no matter how imperfectly, they accepted as partners people they had not wanted next to them, or joined hands with groups they had thought of as enemies. And they inspired the colonised world, enabling it to meet the colonisers eye to eye, in dignity. As for Gandhi’s assassination, it was – like Lincoln’s assassination eight decades earlier, and unlike what Lelyveld implies – the very opposite of a failure or tragedy. It printed on millions of minds in India and elsewhere the reminder that justice and reconciliation are goals worth dying for. But such goals are not what Gandhi should have set his mind on. He should have focused harder on cleansing India. An Asian, Arab, African or Latin American cannot – he or she should not – threaten the west’s hegemony by taking on tasks like uniting Hindus and Muslims in India, or dalits and caste Hindus in India, or Shias and Sunnis in the Arab world, or blacks and Asians in South Africa (or in Europe), or other divided communities in the non-western world, even if such partner ships would help the west too. This was/is the colonial view, and Lelyveld shares it. That V S Naipaul is the author of Indian origin most frequently quoted in the book is one of the many indications warranting the harsh assessment I offer.
remember and love Gandhi. But I am not sure the Mahatma has as yet “got” to Lelyveld. Maybe one day he will, for, whatever his motives, Lelyveld has followed Gandhi closely, examining and cross-examining him at many a turn. He has lived near Gandhi. But the mindset I am referring to is tough. It can also be exceedingly wellmannered, as Lelyveld is. Who wants to say harsh things to a gentleman-biographer? But gentlemen are not immune from a wish to belittle. The book’s style is decorous. Here and there it offers guarded praise. But as far as Gandhi’s standing is concerned – a standing important for the pride and unity of once-colonised and yet-to-be-fully-decolonised peoples – this work is ill-intentioned. To many in the east and west, Gandhi, imperfect human being, towers among most fellow humans because of what he aimed at, how he took aim, and how often his arrows hit the target. But Lelyveld cannot look up. His eyes are focused on the ground. He is looking for the dust. However, his effort is not illegitimate, and its product should not be fettered. Those offended by it should – in the spirit of the Mahatma – reflect (a) on where Gandhi could have done better than he did, and grown even taller, and (b) also on what they can do today to improve life, and strengthen justice and reconciliation, within and beyond the once-colonised and yet-to-be-fully-decolonised world.
Conclusions
Rajmohan Gandhi (
[email protected]) is currently at the Center for Global Studies, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, the United States.
Those troubled by the book’s spirit of denigration have not always expressed themselves in frank language. For example, reviewing Lelyveld’s exercise in the New York Review of Books, Anita Desai wrote (28 April 2011): One might think that Gandhi’s legacy on the whole has been depicted negatively and yet there is no denying Lelyveld’s deep sympathy with the man. Lelyveld has… heaped up so many defeats that his life of Gandhi could easily be read as an ultimately critical one, however judiciously and carefully constructed.
An Indian scholar who had read the book said to me, “But finally Gandhiji got to him, no?”. Maybe the Mahatma did have some impact. Lelyveld concedes, for instance, that, decades after Gandhi’s trek there Muslim and Hindu villagers in Noakhali continue to
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Notes 1 India Today, 8 April 2011. 2 “Gokhale in Lahore, 1909”, quoted in Karve and Ambedkar (ed.), Speeches & Writings of G K Gokhale (Bombay: Asia), 1966, Vol 2, p 420. 3 Quoted in D G Tendulkar, Gandhi in Champaran (New Delhi: Publications Division), 1994, p 103. 4 Churchill quoted in Madhu Limaye, Prime Movers (New Delhi: Radiant), 1985, p 34. 5 Linlithgow to Churchill, 31 August 1942. Linlithgow Papers, F 125/58, India Office Library, London. 6 Gandhi’s letter of 15 February 1904 to Medical Of ficer of Health, Johannesburg, CWMG 3: 428. 7 Harijan, 14 March 1936; CWMG 68: 237-38. 8 Nelson Mandela, “Gandhi the Prisoner” in B R Nanda (ed.), Mahatma Gandhi – 125 Years, New Delhi: Indian Council for Cultural Relations, 1995, p 150. 9 Raojibhai Patel, The Making of the Mahatma, Ahmedabad, 1989, pp 216-17. 10 Cited in Sushila Nayyar. Mahatma Gandhi (Ahmedabad: Navajivan), 1989, Vol 4, p 168.
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INSIGHT
Aarogyasri Healthcare Model: Advantage Private Sector Rajan Shukla, Veena Shatrugna, R Srivatsan
Andhra Pradesh’s Aarogyasri programme has placed health on the political map in the state and is popular with the masses. However, corporate hospitals handle the biggest share of the cases and there is no provision for outpatient treatment of everyday illnesses that affect the working capacity of the patient. The focus on tertiary healthcare to the exclusion of all other forms of medical assistance leads to an inefficient medical care model with a low level of real impact on meeting the needs of healthcare and the health of the population. There is need for a debate on the healthcare and technocommercial performance of the programme, especially if it is going to be copied by other states and even by the centre in introducing some form of universal healthcare.
Rajan Shukla (
[email protected]) is with the Indian Institute of Public Health, Hyderabad, Veena Shatrugna (
[email protected]) was with the National Institute of Nutrition and R Srivatsan (
[email protected]) is with the Anveshi Research Centre for Women’s Studies.
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P
ublic health policy and administration in India, as developed over the past 60 years, has been characterised mainly by family planning, immunisation and specific disease eradication programmes. While such programmes (e g, the oral polio immunisation scheme) are given high publicity in the media (often driven by the agenda of global agencies), there has been a comprehensive silence over the widening gap of availability of quality curative care in the healthcare system. It is common knowledge that 80% of healthcare expenditure in the country is borne by the sick person (out of pocket – OOP – expenditure). The complete deterioration of clinical care at the primary health centres (pchs) is only one indication of a much larger governmental trend. Venkatesh is a 27-year-old MPhil student of economics in a central university. He had worked on an agricultural farm, and during the lean period, used the National Rural Employment Guarantee Act to sustain himself. He was suffering from a nagging back pain for nearly six months. Over time the back pain seemed to subside, and lulled into a false sense of security, Venkatesh lifted a 50 kg bag of grain, only to collapse with acute back pain. Unable to walk he stayed in bed for a day, and then went to a corporate hospital in Hyderabad. The hospital advised him spinal surgery. Venkatesh found that he had to spend a considerable amount of money even before accessing Aarogyasri coverage. His mother sold her jewelry, his co-students and his academic guide helped raise the remaining money through donations from the faculty and students. The surgery completed, Venkatesh has now to live a life of anxiety, with a fairly high probability of recurrence of the problem, and with no guidance to help him strengthen his back and cope with the difficulties throughout his life. His family is also poorer by a hardearned Rs 20,000. Today, it is known that for this kind of back pain, surgery is not the best answer. The best cure is usually rest, pain medication and a lifelong regime of exercise to keep the back muscles strong. In fact this regime is necessary even if surgery is performed.
We trace the Aarogyasri programme to a series of politically significant events
that were selectively highlighted by the Andhra Pradesh (AP) government to build an orchestrated consensus for the project.
Healthcare in Andhra Pradesh The first of these events appears to be the recognition of the precarious health condition of the farmers in the report of the Jayati Ghosh Committee (2006)1 on economic distress in the agricultural sector. In its chapter on health and nutrition, the report discusses the poor health indicators, the failure of the public health system, and the cost of privatised care, that were contributory factors to farmer indebtedness, distress and suicide. The chapter concluded recommending that, … immediate attention of the government should be on enforcing the provision of free care to the poor by the private hospitals, which have benefited from financial incentives, land grants, etc (p 114).
It is possible to speculate that this specific recommendation of the report was a convenient support to the chief minister of Andhra Pradesh, Y S Rajasekhar Reddy’s scheme to provide healthcare for all through corporate hospitals. Not many of the other recommendations to tackle farmer suicides (the original objective of the report) have been implemented. The lack of adequate healthcare for the poor in AP was, perhaps not so paradoxically, paralleled by the burgeoning of corporate hospitals. Starting in the 1980s Hyderabad and Andhra Pradesh have become a major hub of medical diagnostics (Vijaya Diagnostics and Medinova were pioneers) and healthcare (Apollo, Care, Medwin and Yashoda are the foremost examples) providing world class superspecialty procedures (indeed, also in the process trying to become a key destination for global medical tourism). It is possible to speculate that the strong presence of the post-green revolution entrepreneurial castes from AP in the lucrative medical profession in the US with the know-how and the deep cultural attraction for sophisticated western science and technology has led to the establishment of these hospitals. The exorbitant cost of specialty care is well known and is largely due to the need for a better return on investment. The crisis
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of cost for the patient is compounded by the fact that healthcare is a basic, essential service, and cannot be considered as a marketable (i e, private) good. The strong asymmetry of information, coupled with geographic restriction of availability, absence of standard treatment protocol, lack of any quality assurance agency, and an urgency of need, results in an oligopoly. Thus superspecialty hospitals form cartels to keep prices artificially high. In the circumstances, these hospitals were willing to accommodate the poor who thronged the streets and neighbourhoods they were standing in, provided the costs were borne by the State. From 2004 onwards political conditions were ripe for the introduction of some innovative health measures in AP. The chief minister (Rajasekhar Reddy was a qualified medical doctor) needed ways to guarantee his re-election in the coming polls.2 He also had a long-lasting interest and financial commitment to healthcare. Between May 2004 and June 2007, the Chief Minister’s Relief Fund had spent Rs 168.52 crore to help 55,362 below poverty line (BPL) patients needing hospitalisation.3 However, this aid was ad hoc, and given to those who had the resources and connections to tap into it. In addition, since in order to avail this, the patient also had a significant oop expenditure, the purpose of using this money, i e, averting a debt trap for the patient, was not effectively met. In 2006, Manda Krishna Madiga, one of the founders of the Madiga Dandora – a wide spread dalit movement demanding the proportionate reservations to different sub-castes among the scheduled castes (SCs) – undertook a padayatra to highlight the problems of young children with heart ailments. Shocking media visuals depicted parents carrying sick children on the city streets in the peak of summer, and led to a focus on heart problems among the children of the poor. Soon after, Rajasekhar Reddy promptly announced free heart surgeries for these children and by August 2006, more than 4,600 children were operated under the Chief Minister’s Relief Fund. It must be noted at this point that most of the children had preventable health problems, e g, rheumatic heart disease, or issues to be taken care of in the long run by education, e g, congenital heart problems likely due to consanguineous
marriages. None of these contributory factors, preventive measures or health education strategies were discussed, but the magnanimous gesture of funding the heart operations on children set the stage for the Aarogyasri programme. The point to note is that Rajasekhar Reddy’s political astuteness and understanding of healthcare were important factors that led to the scheme. As we shall discuss, the programme by design does not address primary or secondary level healthcare requirements, the assumption being that the public sector has a mandate to provide these services. In fact, Aarogyasri’s focus on tertiary healthcare to the exclusion of all other forms of medical assistance leads to an inefficient medical care model with a low level of real impact on meeting the needs of healthcare and the health of the population. At the same time, the enthusiastic popular reception of the programme has to be taken note of.
Rajiv Aarogyasri Scheme (2006)4 The scheme aims to provide medical care for BPL families up to a value of Rs 2 lakh per year for tertiary surgical and medical treatment of serious ailments, with the explicit aim of helping them avoid a debt trap. The scheme is implemented through the Star Health and Allied Insurance Company, insurer/third party administrator, which was selected through a competitive bidding process. It provides this care through an established network of corporate hospitals, 50+ bedded private hospitals, government medical colleges, district hospitals and area hospitals (and has almost no role for the PHCs). The scheme is run by a public-private partnership called the Aarogyasri Health Care Trust (AHCT, hereinafter the Trust) between Star Health and Allied Insurance, the corporate hospitals and state agencies. The Trust has an oversight role and also ensures that the government departments help in implementation. The beneficiaries are the members of BPL families as enumerated and identified by the Rajiv Aarogyasri Health Card/BPL Ration Card. The definition of BPL families for the Aarogyasri programme differs from that used nationally, and includes 80% of the population. Each family is allowed a total reimbursement of Rs 1.50 lakh per annum availed individually or
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collectively. A buffer of Rs 50,000 meets expenses exceeding Rs 1.5 lakh. There are a total of over 900 procedures with this coverage however cochlear implant surgery with auditory-verbal therapy is reimbursed by the Trust up to a maximum of Rs 6.50 lakh. The healthcare transaction is cashless at the point of service. Basic outpatient department (OPD) examination and some diagnostic procedures to establish whether the condition/proposed intervention is in the eligible list, even if they do not result in the patient undergoing any treatment under Aarogyasri, are supposed to be free. Network hospitals, i e, corporate hospitals, are expected to conduct at least one free medical camp in a week, to screen patients in villages. The entire operational database including all transactions is paperless, real-time and online. In theory, all the PHCs and, area/district hospitals are the usual first contact point for the majority of the beneficiaries. In practice Aarogyamitras (qualified graduates appointed by the Star Health and Allied Insurance Company), who are responsible for “handholding” patients lacking the confidence and the knowledge to engage with the care providers, control the process of referral. In this handholding role, the Aarogyamitras function without checks and restraints from the local health administration since they are not accountable to them. There is anecdotal evidence of Aarogyamitras diverting cases from government hospitals (and even medical colleges) to private hospitals. The Aarogyamitras in the hospital network play an active role in uploading necessary information (see Appendix 1 for a workflow description of a case in the programme). See Appendix 2 for the general statistics of the Aarogyasri programme till October 2011. Appendix 3 provides an ABC analysis of the cases covered over a significant period.
Structural Features Focus on Tertiary Care: The Aarogyasri programme is designed for advanced surgical and medical care. When the system was first implemented, this care was available only in corporate hospitals and medical colleges who had been empanelled in the scheme. However, in the second and third year of the programme, the list has been expanded to include smaller private
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ospitals and secondary government hospih tals. The corporate hospitals continue to handle the biggest share of the Aarogyasri cases. There is no provision for outpatient treatment of everyday illnesses that affect the working capacity of the patient. This lack of early management of illnesses also often results in complications that are more expensively handled in the programme. In effect, the focus on specialty care results in a suboptimal use of healthcare funds. For example the list covers surgical treatment of gastric perforation, but does not cover gastritis and gastric ulcer, which, while requiring simpler and cheaper medical treatment, would have averted the need for surgical intervention. Medicine Costs: Originally, the posttreatment medication costs were covered only for a period of 10 days. Since about a year now, this coverage has been increased to one year. Research indicates that the cost of medications for in-patient treatment is more than 40% of the total cost of treatment.5 For complex procedures which may require lifelong medical support, one year’s support is clearly in adequate and will need to be increased through some suitable mechanism. On the other hand, the paper cited argues that expenditure on drugs constitutes around 82% of the OOP expenditure for outpatient visits, and further suggests that cost of drugs leads to impoverishment (ibid). Therefore the Aarogyasri programme has to include out patient care also. However, the World Bank downplays the importance of drug costs.6 Procedure-Driven: It is an accepted fact that when health insurance schemes are started, for any kind of costing for the treatment of an illness, the average duration of illness, the duration of hospitalisation, and a list of the investigations required, is essential information. None of this information was available for the population in AP – in fact even the disease burden and morbidity profile of the BPL populations were not known. This “technical problem” was not of consequence to the Aarogyasri programme since it is simply designed on the basis of the cost of the procedures of surgical or medical intervention for which corporate hospitals empanelled in the scheme. In other words, the programme
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subsidises the working costs of advanced equipment in corporate hospitals through the provision of patients who are supported by the insurance programme. Ideally the payment should be done for disease conditions rather than procedures so that hospitals have an incentive to follow a strategy of the best treatment rather than fall back on exorbitant advanced equipment and technology. For example, in treatment of uncomplicated cases of acute gallbladder inflammation, laparoscopic (keyhole) surgery is the best option because it avoids an 8 inch long scar, minimises the trauma induced by surgery, cuts down hospital stay and recovery time, etc. However, in complicated cases of gallbladder inflammation, a conventional abdominal surgery with a wide incision is the best option and in fact the laparoscopic procedure is contraindicated. Since Aarogyasri covers the treatment only if laparoscopy is performed, surgeons are forced to use the laparoscope in complicated cases, declare that the surgery is not possible, and then proceed with a conventional surgery to be eligible for treatment. Thus, the clinical competence of the doctor to make the appropriate treatment decision is undercut by the procedure-driven form of Aarogyasri insurance. Similarly conservative management of spine stress disorders is not covered, but spinal surgery is, the documented outcome of which is very poor.7 In addition, the patient has to be managed with physiotherapy, rest, painkillers and movement restrictions after spinal surgery anyway. But hospitals are forced to perform a laminectomy or vertebral fusion, as they cannot opt for conservative management which is cheaper and more effective.8 Venkatesh’s case in the epigraph is exemplary of how, under Aarogyasri, orthopedic spinal care is most often treated by spinal surgery rather than by conservative management. There are three consequences to this unusual route of cost determination: One, since the focal point is the procedure, there is no protocol for determining the best modality of treating the patient, and whether the patient actually needs the procedure. There is only one to determine, once the procedure is decided upon, whether the hospital follows the standard protocol for that procedure. Thus, in January 2010, it was discovered that several hospitals in the
smaller towns in the state were performing unnecessary hysterectomies to benefit from the Aarogyasri largesse. The government has cracked down on this and has instituted protocols. However, the case of unnecessary hysterectomies is only one example of the possibilities of unnecessary surgical interventions that lurk on the horizon. Two, as we have already noted, the procedures approved are often high cost interventions when compared to their less expensive conventional counterparts: e g, gastrointestinal cases are funded for high cost laparoscopic (keyhole) surgeries rather than for the more conventional and cheaper abdominal surgeries (e g, laparoscopic appendicectomy9 is funded rather than conventional appendicectomy, the only advantage of the former being the avoidance of a two-three inches scar). Here it is important to note that conventional care has better penetration in rural/quasi-rural institutions compared to advanced high cost care which is sustainable only in metros and big cities. Hence, an insurance funding mechanism which covers only high cost procedures will bias the medical system towards an urban-centric specialty system and against a broader distribution of medical care throughout the state. It also restricts the local availability of treatment (as only advanced treatment is covered under Aarogyasri) in rural and remote areas. Three, the cost of the procedure is determined at the initiation of the programme based on the current costs at that time. The reduction in the cost of the procedure due to the increased patient base provided by Aarogyasri is not accounted for, leading to a profitable enterprise for the hospitals at the cost of state funds. Insurance Risk Free: Normally the insurance company maximises its profits by closely monitoring the hospital’s practice and claims to limit payouts. In Aarogyasri, the insurance company benefits every time bills are paid since they take 20% of the amount paid out. Even when funds are returned unspent, the insurance company makes 10% of the returned money as a handling fee. Therefore it is not interested in monitoring inflated expenditure at all. Corporate Hospital Control: It must be quite clear by now that the corporate
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hospitals have sought near absolute control over the lucrative programme. Six months ago, there was an administrative move to ensure that some of the less specialised procedures are conducted by government hospitals, thus ensuring both a measure of control, and as a way of funding these hospitals. This led to an uproar in which many corporate hospitals vociferously opposed the diversion of patients to government hospitals, and the health secretary and minister were drawn into media glare. The overall structure of the programme is such that it is a cash-rich no-risk enterprise for the healthcare industry in ap. This bias towards corporate hospitals is evident in another crucial statistic. One would generally assume that the government has a better presence in rural healthcare due to its long history of PHC, area hospital and district hospital network. However, the Aarogyasri programme figures suggest otherwise. About 32% of the Aarogyasri cases in government hospitals are treated in small towns and district headquarters. Against this, nearly 46% of the Aarogyasri cases in corporate hospitals are treated in small towns and district quarters. Thus there is a growth of tertiary care corporate hospitals in the hinterland, providing advanced tertiary care without the robust foundation of primary and secondary care. In such a context corporate hospitals have increased in size and number, at the cost of the governmental healthcare network, carrying with it all the risks of unnecessary, undefined and excessive medicalisation, uncontrolled use of the patient as an instrument to channel funds, and an absence of any check on medical intervention on patients who are completely out of their depth in the healthcare system. Health Impact: One of the difficult questions that the Aarogyasri programme raises is about the health impact it has on morbidity and epidemiological profile. While it is designed to take care of catastrophic expenditure due to serious illness it leaves us wondering about the broader effects it has on the general level of health of people. How does one measure this effectively, and how do we measure the relative effectiveness of treatment between the domains of widespread morbidity and sharply defined acute medical care? For example,
in 2009, the widespread outbreak of dengue fever resulted in the then Chief Minister Rosaiah declaring that dengue would be treated under Aarogyasri, only to be contradicted the very next day by the Aarogyasri minister, Satyanarayana on the grounds that it was not included in the list of 943 treatments covered under the programme.10 The complete capitulation of healthcare priority to corporate hospital interests is clear in this result which borders on a medical atrocity. Expertise, Technology and Industry Dominance: The combination of expert knowledge, high technology and healthcare industry dominance in the programme make for an extremely potent cocktail. On the one hand, expert medical knowledge decides that a specific treatment is necessary, and this decision is driven only too often by an investment decision by the corporate hospital in expensive high technology equipment. The skewed profile of expertise where the doctor has all the knowledge and the patient has none results in a complete submission on the part of the latter. The government has no control over what the healthcare industry decides is necessary for treatment. This scenario is one in which unnecessary, and undefined medicalisation of a problem can occur due to a lack of clear protocols. No Focus on Epidemics and Region Specific Morbidities: One of the problems of the Aarogyasri programme is the lack of a comprehensive disease management protocol; but the other problem is that it is impossible to recognise any disease that does not fall within the list of problems covered under Aarogyasri. Thus, any disease that does not fall under the tertiary care profile, like malaria, typhoid, cholera, respiratory diseases, and any procedure which does not have a listed profile is neither visible as a disease nor does it qualify for a procedure. This tertiary care driven system does not allow us to determine the ailments of a population that has no access to healthcare. It forecloses the possibility of any indigenous research about diseases that are not epidemiologically important in the west, but are crucial in our conditions. There has, as of date, been no public debate on Aarogyasri to assess the healthcare
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and techno-commercial performance of the programme. The patient level data that has been generated and maintained on the Aarogyasri database is not available in the public sphere for analysis and discussion. Only aggregate details are shared in the public domain. In contrast, western countries like the US, UK, Germany and France, which fund medical insurance, allow open access of the data generated by the programme to universities and research institutions. This facilitates sharing information, compounding insights into flaws, generates metadata on the quality of the programme, and acts as a public check on corporate excess. Thus governments look at the healthcare scenario of the population and decide on their healthcare strategy. In Aarogyasri, such a strategic planning dimension for healthcare is completely missing. Given the interest in the Aarogyasri programme, and the emergent possibility of universal access to healthcare through public-private partnerships in the Twelfth Five-Year Plan, it is essential that the empanelment contract for private hospitals should have a clause that ensures sharing of information for the sake of research, to facilitate mid-course improvements, to map tertiary care epidemiological profiles and to understand patient responses to the programme. Private Investment and Healthcare: A search on the web about Aarogyasri shows that it has aroused considerable interest in the World Bank and other multilateral funding agencies, institutions like the Ford Foundation which are interested in funding non-governmental work and the social sector, and also finally private equity funds. The high investment, specialised and technically sophisticated corporate hospital, which works on a for-profit basis, but is willing to take the corporate social responsibility to treat the poor if someone is willing to pay, is like a magnet for fund managers interested in strategic, mission related, impact and social investment.11 This means that such private equity funds would drive ventures to invest in hospitals that are part of Aarogyasri-type programmes which have access to a lucrative guaranteed source of income from insurance schemes. The presence of multinational funding interest only means that these interests will heavily
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bias healthcare in India and the kinds of structural flaws described will be even more intense. Visibility, Charisma and Effectiveness: It is extremely clear from the statement by the panchayati raj minister cited earlier12 that in the political imagination, the intended purpose of the treatment is a clear memory of the help offered by the benefactor in time of need. Thus, Rajasekhar Reddy had a vision of an electorate which would remember him as the charismatic leader who “took care” of his electorate in their time of dire distress. In this he was singularly successful if the reports of the beneficiaries are taken seriously. How ever, this is a foothold in a domain where none existed: it was impossible for an ordinary person to imagine that the government would help him in a serious health crisis. How does one convert this foothold into a firm and well-grounded political demand for better healthcare, and how does one administer it in that manner?
Conclusion The Aarogyasri scheme has been revolutionary in placing health on the political map in the state. It is a major landmark in India’s administrative approach to health and has emerged as a popular scheme among the masses. It has given hope to multitudes where none existed. However in its current form, the programme is a means to fund corporate hospital profit and distorts the pattern of healthcare in the state. A re-examination of the Aarogyasri programme is urgently necessary, especially in the context of its emergence as a possible model for universal healthcare.
4 5 6
7 8 9 10
Notes 1 The Jayati Ghosh Committee, constituted to look into the problem of farmer suicides in Andhra Pradesh submitted a report in 2006 titled “Report of the Commission on Farmer’s Welfare, Government of Andhra Pradesh”, informally known as the Jayati Ghosh Committee report. We refer here to chapter 11, “Social Issues, Nutrition and Expenditure on Health and Education”. 2 See http://www.hindu.com/2007/04/02/stories/ 2007040210300500.htm for a statement by the panchayati raj minister on the reasoning behind Aarogyasri: the patient so helped would remember
Appendix 1: Theoretical and Actual Steps to Access Aarogyasri-Based Healthcare Sr No
Steps Taken by a Patient to Access Aarogyasri
What Happens in Reality/Possible Gaps in Functioning of System
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
Beneficiaries approach the nearby PHC/area hospitals/district hospital/public and private network hospital/health camps. Aarogyamitras at these points to assist the beneficiary and guide them through referral and treatment. The Aarogyamitras at the network hospitals examine the referral card and health card/BPL, ration card, register the patients and facilitate specialist consultation, preliminary diagnosis, basic tests and the admission process. The hospital admits the patient and sends a preauthorisation request. Specialists working with the insurer and the trust examine the pre-authorisation request and approve the case within 12 working hours. The corporate hospital extends cashless treatment and surgery to the beneficiary. The post-operative notes on the patients are updated on the website. The hospital forwards the original bills for surgery/therapy/transport/medication, reports/records, discharge summary with patient’s signature and his comments. Insurer scrutinises the bills and approves payment within the stipulated period online. Free follow-up for 121 identified procedures.
Too much influencing power with Aarogyamitras to direct patients to corporate network hospitals. Private hospitals encourage this through incentives. Defunct curative care in public health sector also promotes this behaviour. Many Aarogyamitras have Apple I-phones gifted by corporate hospitals (this needs to be investigated in detail). Basic tests are necessary for pre-authorisation. This is done at the same hospital. Thus, there is no gatekeeping mechanism or mechanism of recording findings at PHC to cross-check clinical presentation of the patients. Overdependence on reports can lead to reports being manipulated. The hospital is solely responsible for sending pre-authorisation details. Patient has no say. Can lead to a tendency of referral of complicated/high risk/non-profitable cases to Government facility or worst, ignoring them altogether. Specialist have incentive for processing more pre- authorisations/day and handling them ASAP. Pre-authorisation processing requires going through many medical records in detail online. This leads to a contradiction in process and incentives. Again no physical verification of patient findings. Over dependence on records and patient notes can lead to manipulation.The Trust should have mechanisms to randomly clinically audit 5% of cases when in hospital, some before pre-authorisation and others after completion of procedures. Despite developing packages, again line-item billing is done (inefficient). At time of discharge it is too early to gauge if patient has received any relief/benefit from the procedures especially in chronic conditions. Feedback at time of discharge can be influenced by hospitals. Very good system – Transparent and reviewable.
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3
No way to ensure the quality of follow-up. Only frequency can be counted. Another independent feedback should be taken at six months and end of one year after treatment for all cases.
11
12
the helper through out his life – note the characteristic focus on memory for vote bank politics rather than on healthcare to ensure welfare. Accessed on 8 October 2011. See Indian Institute of Public Health, A Rapid Evaluation of the Rajiv Aarogyasri Community Health Insurance Scheme – Andhra Pradesh, p 45. This description is adapted from the Indian Institute of Public Health, A Rapid Evaluation… pp 16-17. Renu Shahrawat and Krishna D Rao (April 2011), “Insured Yet Vulnerable: Out-of-Pocket Payments and India’s Poor” in Health Policy and Planning, pp 1-9. For the World Bank intervention, see: http://blogs. worldbank.org/developmenttalk/health-systeminnovation-in-india-part-ii-aAarogyasri, accessed on 22 October 2011. We are referring here to a laminectomy, which removes a part of the vertebral bone called the lamina. See previous note. An appendicectomy is a surgical removal of the appendix. See The Hindu, 29 October 2009, http://www.hindu. com/2009/10/28/stories/2009102856590400.htm, accessed on 1 November 2011. It is quite clear from the recent demand by the BJP MP Bandaru Dattatreya that the treatment of dengue be included in Aarogyasri that this crisis has not yet been resolved. See Deccan Chronicle, 26 October 2011, http://www.deccanchronicle.com/channels/cities/ regions/visakhapatnam/include-dengue-arogyasribjp-147, accessed on 1 November 2011. See interesting position paper by Lions Head Global Partners in http://www.lhgp.com/0904-RoleOfI nternationalPrivateCapital.pdf . Also see overview of the Lions Head Global Partners in http://www. lhgp.com/101113-LHGP-Overview.pdf. Accessed on 18 October 2011. See footnote 3 above for a description.
Appendix 2: General Statistics of the Aarogyasri Programme Till October 2011 Type of Hospital
Number of Value of Surgeries/ Surgeries/ Treatments Treatments (Rs Crore)
Government hospitals Corporate hospitals Total
2,62,661 9,42,885 12,05,546
672 2,683 3,354
Appendix 3: Treatments Undertaken by Medical/Surgical Specialties (as of January 2009) Conditions Category
Cardiac Cancer Neurology Renal Poly-Trauma General surgery Gynaecology Paediatrics Plastic surgery Orthopaedics Gastroenterology Critical care Pulmonology ENT Ophthalmology Rheumatology Endocrinology Dermatology Total
Frequency
%
23,627 21,325 13,937 8,824 8,686 4,791 2,314 2,184 1,554 965 825 224 146 140 69 28 26 4 89,669
26.3 23.8 15.5 9.8 9.7 5.3 2.6 2.4 1.7 1.1 0.9 0.2 0.2 0.2 0.1 0.0 0.0 0.0 100.0
(1) Note the absence of coverage for widespread infectious diseases like malaria, diarrhea, coughs and colds which may be screened at the primary and secondary levels of healthcare. (2) Orthopaedic procedures are often spinal surgeries for back pain. Conservative treatments are not covered. (3) Gastrointestinal procedures are not laparotomies but are usually expensive laparoscopic procedures to remove the appendix, gall bladder, etc. (4) This table is taken from IIPH, Rapid Evaluation… p 33.
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In Search of an Anchor: Muslim Thought in Modern India Valerian Rodrigues
Muslim intellectuals in India share a set of specific concerns that set them apart from their counterparts in other religions. These concerns are the relationship between faith and modernity and that between revelation, plurality of beliefs and culture which have led to a number of political positions. This paper highlights the features of six influential positions through the writings of one significant thinker from each tradition. Every one of these thinkers responded differently to two overarching concerns. They either engaged with the philosophical principles of modernity, or thought that modernity as a set of skills could be grafted onto the foundational principles of Islam or that a different world could be created by picking out the principles ingrained in the Islamic tradition.
Valerian Rodrigues (
[email protected]) teaches at the Centre for Political Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
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t is important to note that Muslims in India1 are deeply caught in class and status divides (such as Ashrafs, Ajlafs and Arzals), multiple sect-based identities (such as Shias and Sunnis), subscribe to different juridical (such as Hanafi, Hanbali, Shafii and Maliki) and ethnic (such as Bohra, Navayat, Moplah) lineages, and are divided into diverse populist as well as orthodox versions of religious practices. Besides, the linguistic and regional diversities in India and distinct historical legacies inform their understanding and have left their mark regarding who they are. Such sociological divisions are not unimportant to their specific understanding and reach to ideas and concerns. The differential understanding arising therefrom has an important bearing on the political stances adopted by Muslims over the years.2 But it is also important to note that Muslim intellectuals across their diverse divisions also share a consciousness of a kind and a set of specific concerns that mark them off from their other religious counterparts in India. These concerns can broadly be divided into two types: (1) The relationship between faith and modernity, and (2) The relationship between revelation, plurality of beliefs and culture. While all Muslim thinkers in India dwelt on these twofold concerns, they assigned different weightages to their significance. The first relationship came to the fore under colonial modernity during British rule, which was seen by an important section of the traditional intelligentsia as posing a fundamental challenge to their deeply held beliefs. The second concern was highlighted by Muslim intellectuals in their engagement with the national movement as they confronted the prospect of living within the fold of a nation where the majority owed their allegiance to another religion. These twofold specific concerns, however, led to several political stances, six of them becoming widely influential and often throwing up distinct institutional complexes for their pursuits. While there were varied and multiple overlapping considerations across these stances, there were significant differences among them too. While some of these stances were primarily represented by an epochal thinker, others were much more institutionalised as schools of thought with distinct sets of practices. These six stances can be denoted as follows: (1) Islam within the paradigm of modernity. (2) Islam/Muslim as a continuing tradition. (3) Modernity under Islam. (4) Modernity under a Muslim nation state. (5) Primacy to Islam. (6) Equality of religious pursuits within a single nation state. In this paper, an attempt is made to highlight the characteristic thinking of each one of these stances, generally through the writings of one of its important thinkers, with regard to the two central concerns mentioned above.
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1 Islam within the Paradigm of Modernity With the consolidation of British power in India, one of the earliest and most critically influential thinkers, who called for the realignment of Islam with modernity, was Syed Ahmed Khan (18171898).3 He distinguished modernity from colonialism and British rule, and argued that their contingent association should not be conflated to judge the significance of modernity as such. He saw modernity as a specific mode of reasoning, science and techno logy, and their institutionalisation into conceptions of knowledge, division of labour and engagement with nature. In this sense, he underscored the universal import of this development. He also thought that resources and opportunities in the future would increasingly be assigned in proportion to one’s capacity to engage with this development. Modernity, therefore, had opened up new prospects before everyone, including Muslims. Therefore, Muslims, instead of living in their past glory and without looking at their institutions of yore for authoritative guidance, needed to look to modernity as their future. The future of Muslims, according to him, lay in embracing modernity.
1.1 The Relationship between Faith and Modernity Syed Ahmed’s positive assessment of modernity did not make him reject religion but led him to the reformulation of the relationship between religion and science. Islam was perceived by him as being not against modernity. He sought a reinterpretation of the same by employing tools of modern scientific research. He proposed not only ijtehad (re-interpretation) but a modern Ilm-ulKalam (structure of knowledge), a new conceptual framework to review the relevance and significance of Islam in the post- enlightenment age. His central argument in this regard can be formulated as follows: There is an essential harmony between the word of god and the work of god. Therefore, there cannot be a contradiction between the teachings of the Quran and the laws of nature. If there are such contradictions, they are merely apparent and they have to be resolved through ijtehad. Such a stance led him to a radical re-interpretation of many beliefs, and stipulation of the relations between the sources and traditions of faith afresh – he denied all the miracles attributed to the prophets in the Semitic religions. He also argued that Quranic verses pertaining to jinns, satan, angels, creation, the immaculate conception of Jesus, ascension of the prophet to the divine presence, paradise, hell, seat of god, etc, cannot be read literally. He minimised the role of archangel Gabriel as the conduit of divine revelations and argued that it was the disposition and attunement of the prophet that made his revelatory experience possible. He argued that the Quran has to be understood holistically and the word of god in it lends itself to appropriation differently by different people across time and cultures. While the word of god in the Quran will always be the expression of truth, the readings of the same across ages may significantly vary. It is not on account of the defects in the Quran but on account of the limited understanding of the human mind. The former will always be abreast with scientific progress. The role of Quranic exegesis should be to interpret the verses in the light of the latest scientific developments. While the Quranic verses are anchored to the textual structure, our understanding, and interpretation of them
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will be within the parameters of the framework of thought of a specific age. While our understanding depends upon the deployment of appropriate scientific understanding, the body of propositions constituting the Quran will permanently remain immune to change and devoid of any limitations or faults. Syed Ahmed insisted that interpretation of the Quran called for a great deal of methodological, hermeneutic and exegetical skills. It demanded appropriate understanding of Islamic and Quranic sciences, Arabic lexicography, grammar, morphology, syntax, semantics, styles and other features of language and literature. At the same time, he felt, one should be aware of the sources of misinterpretation such as historicisation, culturalisation or positivist readings of the text as they are likely to undermine the transcendental character of Quranic verses. Such misinterpretations can also lead to unending disagreements. The Quran is not merely a descriptive account and does not lend itself to literal translation. It is multifunctional – descriptive, assertive, informative, declarative, expressive, interpretative, symbolic, allegorical, metaphorical, analogical, etc (Mir 2008: 148). He thought that the classical exegesis of the Quran based on the reported sayings of the prophet read through Greek philosophical speculations lent itself to several misinterpretations. He argued that the Quran took root in a conceptual milieu in which mythological accounts and miraculous elements had been predominant. The biblical stories that find a place in the Quran are often caught in miracle mongering and mythological accounts violating rational justification and natural laws. Often, in the miraculous accounts, the classical scholars saw manifest the supreme and absolute power of Allah. In all such endeavours, there is the human agency that leads to the corruption of the word of god. Such endeavours are also deeply caught within sectarian motivations, denominational ambitions, personal angularities and professional skills. Further, given the inadequate development of experimental sciences, there were no adequate resources to make the necessary distinction between fact and fiction. Greek philosophy had a significant impact on Muslim intellectuals. In this context, Syed Ahmed advanced the following exegetical criteria: (1) The interpreter needs to grasp and appreciate the nuances, the mood and the style of the Quranic use of words; (2) seek help from one verse to the meaning of another verse; (3) the stipulations of a word and designated meaning must be in accord; (4) a word should not be used outside the meaning accorded to it in a particular context; (5) when a word is used equivocally, the exact meaning assigned in different contexts has to be marked; (6) the literal and figurative usage of words must be distinguished; (7) it is important to underscore whether a particular discourse is amenable to allegorical interpretation; (8) the interpreter should ensure whether the designated meaning of a word is context specific or not; (9) certain phrases like god sitting on the throne, hand of god and face of god cannot be taken literally, either because they are impossible for rational consideration, militate against divine laws or are not in tune with the ordinary experience of man. Therefore, it is important to underscore whether words are employed in a univocal, monosemic or in a polysemic, polyvocal way; and (10) it is important to distinguish between what he called intended speech (kalam-i-maqsood) and december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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unintended speech (kalam-i-ghairmaqsood). The unintended speech does not state a fact but is meant to reinforce the intended principle. This is evident in phrases such as “to those who reject our science and treat them with arrogance no opening will be there of the gates of heaven, nor will they enter the garden, until the camel can pass through the eye of the needle” (Mir 2008: 152).4 While convinced of the perfection of Din (religion) and the finality of the prophethood of Muhammad, he did not accept the finality of the sharia. The sharia, according to him, is an ongoing and evolving legal mechanism bound up with interpersonal, sociopolitical and economic ways of life, and undergoes change according to changing conditions and the cultural context. The claims of Din should not, therefore, encompass the entire range of such temporal and culture-bound activities. He, therefore, rejected the totalising version of religion. He did not see it as a complete code of conduct. He felt that Muslims had lost their initiative due to the totalising interpretation of Islam, and ought to find a solution to their sociopolitical and economic problems without getting their guidance from theologians and jurists. Therefore, it was important to demarcate the jurisdiction of religion from other spheres of life. He argued that in the process of expansion and propagation, the core teachings of Islam came to be enmeshed in cultural and situational processes, but that it was important to distinguish between the two. While the nuclear core of Islam, i e, its moral and spiritual perspectives, are universally valid, situational practices cannot claim the same. Therefore, the sharia can never be conclusively or definitively formulated. It is obligatory on Muslims of every age to engage with their social, political, economic and cultural concerns within the overall matrix of the modern and spiritual meaning of Islam.
1.2 The Relationship between Din, Religious Plurality and Culture The concept of the qaum, or community, is quite central to Syed Ahmed and he saw a polity generally as constituted of different qaums. Syed Ahmed used the terms mulk, millat and qaum interchangeably, as well as to denote communities of different types. In this sense, the usage of the word was fuzzy. In the former sense, he says, “The Qaum is used for the citizens of a country. Various peoples of Afghanistan are considered Qaum and different peoples of Iran are known as Iranis. In a nutshell since olden times the world Qaum is used for the inhabitants of a country, even though they have characteristics of their own” (Malick 1970: 138-39). Syed Ahmed thought that common history and interests beget bonds across communities. It is based on sharing a common soil, political authority, mode of social cooperation as well as hardships such as famines (ibid:138). Generally, he was emphatic about Hindus and Muslims as the two constituents of India and called for their unity in one heart and soul. When it came to political affiliation, he confined the usage of the term Muslim to the territorial boundaries of India. He excluded from its connotation affiliation to Persia and Arab lands, which were so central to his collective heritage. In his chronology of Delhi kings, he focused on the legacies of the ancient Hindu kings. He saw the exemplar of rulership in Akbar rather than in Aurangzeb (Gandhi 1986:22). Against the Hindi chauvinists who were trying to delink Hindi Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
from Urdu, he argued that the latter was the connecting bond between Hindus and Muslims in India: “If Hindus persistently demanded the adoption of Hindi in preference to Urdu it would result in the total separation of the Muslims from the Hindus” (ibid: 139). Syed Ahmed saw India as being made up of numerous communities. He also felt that nationalism had a complicity with majoritarianism. Muslims, being a minority in India, would be the losers if they un-problematically joined the national mainstream. It was, therefore, important to strive after minority rights so that Muslim interests could be safeguarded in India. He also thought that relative to Hindus, Muslims had remained backward under the colonial dispensation. If they joined Hindus in the national movement, their inequality would be further exacerbated. He, therefore, argued that Muslims should strive to be on par with Hindus in education and employment rather than just be content as the tail end of the national movement. Syed Ahmed was opposed to pan-Islamism and was not welldisposed towards the concept of a universal Muslim Khilafat, although he did not want to see Indian Muslims being isolated from the rest of the Dar-ul-Islam. He drew up the argument that in Islam, the authority of the ruler has its basis in divine sanction. Therefore, affront to authority is not justified. In The Causes of the Indian Revolt, he argued that the revolt of 1857 was not a religious war and, therefore, cannot be termed jihad. According to him, the British had not interfered in the religious practices of the Muslims (Khan 1858). He was opposed to those challenging British political power in India, which he felt was securely established.5 He emphasised his loyalty to the British Indian government and not to an external Khalifa. At the same time, given the social heterogeneity of India, Syed Ahmed felt that a mode of representation based upon the majority principle was not suitable to India. He argued, “I am convinced that the principle of election, pure and simple, for representation…would be attended with evils of greater significance than purely economic considerations...the larger community would totally override the interests of the smaller community” (Appadorai 1973:255). He believed that a system of representation in India, even in the best of the situations would result in “four votes of the Hindu to every one vote for the Mahomedan” (Khan 1888: 12). While Syed Ahmed endorsed British authority over India, at the same time he felt that there was an absence of representation to express the grievances of the people as there was not a single Indian legislative council member. As a result, the people were unaware of the intentions of the government and some of the laws and regulations passed by the British were not in tune with established customs and practices. Similarly, there was an ignorance on the part of the government with regard to the condition of the people. He also thought that there was an over enthusiasm among a section of the British establishment to spread Christianity in India (Khan 1858:149). He felt that this hiatus between the people and the administration had to be removed for the sake of good government. A differentiated system of representation, with adequate representation to minorities, was needed for the purpose.
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The kind of position Syed Ahmed espoused, internally coherent and endorsing a version of the modern/liberal position, finds widespread acknowledgement among a section of Muslims in India even today. But it has been subjected to criticism with regard to both his stances, i e, his reading of the relation between faith and modernity on the one hand, and religion, pluralism and culture on the other. On the first count, this stance has been seen as positivist and in one blow undermining the significance of Din to the believers. It is accused of ignoring the mystical/intuitive dimension of human consciousness and its moral and spiritual role in the march of civilisation. There is a reduction of faith to modernity. Many have seen in it trappings of deism, which implies that god created the world and left it entirely to the charge of man. Critics feel that the Syed Ahmed kind of reading of Islam does enormous harm to its central doctrines. In this background, his contribution to the discussion on god is seen as mostly prosaic and betrays a tragic absence of genuine religious sensibility. Those such as Alam Khundmiri, who do not wish to disown his entire legacy, however feel, “Ultimately Syed Ahmad’s mistake was to impose the limits and also the possibilities of physical science upon Human knowledge” (Ansari 2011:79). In relation to religious pluralism and human agency, Syed Ahmed bequeathed a specific legacy. The basic social units in his thought were religious communities, although he underscored many shared practices and institutions bonding Hindus and Muslims. The liberalism in his stance had little place for discrete members of communities and their rights. In comparison, during his time, leaders such as justice Ranade were centrally drawing attention to rights and claims of discrete citizens and not merely to national independence. The shared social life that he spoke about was mainly confined to the elite, and the masses at the most were bonded in certain shared religious practices and occupations. Worse still, the community categories that Syed Ahmed was invoking were not different from those of the colonial dispensation. At the same time, the separate treatment that Syed Ahmed was marking to have a level-playing field for minorities was invoking the language of rights. It is important, however, to note that what it means to have shared bonds and what kind of special considerations ought to be extended to Muslims could beget different considerations. Syed Ahmed’s position can be read as making place for group rights as well as cultural belonging. But such a politics of difference was not based on a strong invocation of equal rights as Azad was to do later. Muslims in India were deeply plural and were not always in a minority, but those upholding Syed Ahmed’s kind of stance generally assumed Muslims across India to be homogeneous. He rightly warned against undermining Urdu as the uniting bond across communities. But the developments on this front went against his stand (Rai 2000). His opposition to the Congress has been variously interpreted – its political aggressiveness, the domination of the Hindus in it, etc. But it could be argued that his location as a Muslim is an important factor in this direction (Kalam 2008: 23536). The colonial ideology, including the orientalist scholarship, had a deep complicity in Syed Ahmed’s commendable efforts in bequeathing to posterity institutions and political tendencies that were to have profound consequences subsequently. Unfortunately,
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such developments gave little heed to the enormous but yet undefined creative space that he had opened up.
2 Islam/Muslim as a Continuing Tradition There were several thinkers/schools of thought who justified Islam as tradition, handed down over the ages, and did not see the need to go for a break in it, as was suggested by Syed Ahmed. They also defended it as the only mode of life available to Muslims. There is innovation possible within tradition, but in a traditional way. While there are several versions of this stance, the one represented by the madrasa at Deoband has been better known and is widely influential (Metcalf 2005). What unites all these versions is not a justification of tradition, qua tradition, but as possibly the only way their respective protagonists could envisage a good life. It is important to point out at the outset that they had all appropriated elements of modernity, sometimes covertly but often overtly, to make their respective ways of life viable. But all such usages were seen by them as being in accord with tradition, or at the most as instrumental to sustain their cherished way of life rather than caving in to the values and concerns of modernity.
2.1 The Deoband School 2.1.1 The Legacy Shah Wali-Ullah (1703-62) is said to have inaugurated a new Idiom of Islamic understanding at the juncture of the weakening of Mogul authority in India (Jalbani 1967). He called for the purification of the prevailing Muslim way of life from corruption by pre-Islamic traditions and ways of life, including those of Indian origin. What we have here is an attempt to retrieve a tradition and mark it off from those considered illegitimate in a context where little authoritarian guidance was forthcoming from political authority. The illegitimate and impure practices were also projected as responsible for the sorry state of affairs of the Muslims. Wali-Ullah thought that ignorance of the Quran and the prophetic traditions was responsible for it. At the same time, he called for a rational and broad-minded interpretation of Islamic beliefs and practices and, in furtherance of this call, he himself translated the Quran into Persian. In many ways, it was a widespread endeavour to reinstate an alternative religious authority. In this endeavour, the ulema fell back on their strength rather than that of their rulers. It was a widely shared concern. The Farangi Mahall family of Lucknow, the Chishtiyyah in Punjab and the Naqshbandiyyah in Delhi too attempted to reflect on the viability of tradition without the sustenance afforded by political power. While there were significant differences across them, their collective effort led to the growth of Islamic practices based firmly on the Quran, the Hadiths and the sharia. In this endeavour, we can mark a tendency to outgrow the localisms of the Sufi traditions and an attempt to reach out to universal forms. This line of thinking and the effort to institutionalise it contributed a great deal in the making of Deoband,6 and in other modes of mobilisation and institutional practices. Metcalf points out that much of this effort to reassert the continued validity of tradition even without the sustaining support of political authority was inspired by two normative december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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c onsiderations – one is Tajdid, which denotes a process of renewal and commitment to the way of the prophet; and the second is jihad, which denotes effort or action to conform to the way of god. Apart from external behaviour, jihad also denotes intention and purpose.7 There is a shared moral stance in both these considerations – the present troubles that Muslims confront are attributed to individual moral corruption. The enemy would not be strong if one were oneself strong. This could lead to an excessive emphasis on training and disciplining the individual (Metcalf 2005: 5).8 As a result, the self-reflective Muslim constituency far outweighed their peers in other religions from the latter part of the 19th century.
2.1.2 Faith and Modernity Deoband’s initial inspiration came from the ulema, who, according to Metcalf, “chose a strategy of turning within, eschewing for the time all concern with the organisation of the state and relation with other communities. Their sole concern was to preserve the religious heritage… and to disseminate instruction in authentic religious practice and belief. They sought to be, and to create in others, personalities that embodied Islam” (ibid:11). However, in this context, they selectively appropriated elements of institutionalised dispensation of instruction that western, and particularly British universities were devising in the mid-19th century. Rejecting the traditional mode of imparting instruction, they devised several new ways – they did not opt for the hitherto prevalent family lineage mode of instruction, but chose the madrasa as the institutional basis of their work. Given the dwindling royal patronage, they tapped other sources of finance and set up an organisational structure geared to elicit efficiency and account ability to be achieved within a time frame (ibid:94).9 The institutional code stipulated that instructors should forgo individual inclinations in the service of the common programme, i e, “Instruction should be that already agreed on or later agreed on by consultation” (ibid:96). The ulema of Deoband, from early on, also tried to establish a system of branch schools subjecting them to some kind of loose control in both curriculum and administration by the mother institution, following the pattern of affiliating universities in Britain. However, personal ties continued to be very important in this regard rather than a regimen of rules (ibid: 125).
2.1.3 The Relation between Din, Plurality of Beliefs and Culture The Deobandi ulema did not entertain any definite political position but reached out to political parties that they thought were conducive to the advancement of Muslim interests. Leading Deobandis, however, participated in the Jamait-Ulema-i-Hind (JUH), founded in 1919, which supported the Indian National Congress, spearheading the movement for Indian independence, and did not entertain the demand for a separate Muslim state. JUH did not espouse parliamentary democracy but thought much more in the framework of the millat system – they believed that with independence, “they could in fact form their own community, with their own Shariat based codes and their own educational institutions, inhabiting the same space as Hindus but Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
c ulturally apart” (ibid:14).10 However, a small section of Deobandis came to support the Muslim League demand for a separate Muslim state and organised themselves as Jamait Ulema-i-Islam (JUI), which became a political party in Pakistan after independence.11 Deobandis did not have much place in their framework of thought for shared practices across communities. They rejected Shia practices and were opposed to Muslim observances that they thought were adulterated by local beliefs. A large heritage of Sufism and pir-related practices was rejected by them. They associated themselves with the Hanafi school of law. One of their great achievements was the issuance of numerous fatwas over the years, giving authoritative opinion on what is legitimate and what is not within the tradition. They threw scorn at efforts such as that of Syed Ahmed, calling him nechari (play on the term, “naturalist” in a pejorative sense). Within the community itself, they drew a sharp line between the Barelwis and the Ahl-i-Hadis.
2.2 Other Versions of Continuing Traditions 2.2.1 Tablighi Jamaat One of the important versions of the “continuing” tradition is the Tablighi Jamaat.12 While it owes its basic religious understanding to the Deoband, its approach is very different. It was inspired by Maulana Muhammad Ilyas Khandhlawi in the late 1920s. He made an attempt to reach out to the peasantry who had little grooming in Muslim religious life and were susceptible to appeals for religious conversion from other proselytising bodies. The Tablighis focused on the discrete believer and developed support processes through which he practised his religious beliefs in ways that the community would appreciate. They developed a network of lay leadership to monitor as well as to persuade members to fall in line. Its members kept themselves away from political involvement and shunned territorial political linkages. The emphasis was not so much on book-learning but face-to-face, heart-to-heart communication. The Jamaat persuaded ordinary Muslims to go out in groups to remind their co-religionists to fulfil their fundamental ritual obligations. Thereby, it strove to develop a religious sociability as well as to make ordinary Muslims commit themselves to scrupulous adherence to Islamic behaviour and persuade others to do so. The Jamaat avoided debate and argumentation, and shunned wholly any physical coercion in its work. A member’s persuasive effort was supposed to be crowned with sukun, i e, the peace that one experiences as a foretaste of paradise itself (Metcalf 2004: 173-90). The Tablighi Jamaat experience inducts an adherent into a dense network of believers forming a community across time and space. Often, belonging to the Jamaat leads to a highly disciplined life of sacrifice. It is an experience of mission of jihad by peace. It calls for self-purification. It attends to personal/private life rather than political transformation. Its focus remains on the global ummah, and its reach and concern is not confined to the nation state. It is, however, important to point out that on the adherence to strict Islamic codes and practices, the Tablighis are in agreement with the Deoband and some of the organisations inspired by it such as the Taliban. The Taliban, for instance, has
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emphasised on rigourous enforcement of the Islamic code and displayed its opposition to “custom-laden ceremonies such as weddings and pilgrimages to shrines”, “practices associated with the Shia sect” and insisted on “seclusion of women as a central symbol of a morally ordered society” (Metcalf 2005: xxii).
2.2.2 The Barelwi Ulema The Barelwi Ulema are opposed to the Deobandis, the Tablighi Jamaat and the Jamaat Ahl-i-Hadis. Barelwi organisations such as the Jamaat Ahl-e-Sunnat represent the mainstream of popular Islam in south Asia, drawing on the work of the theologian Raza Ahmad Khan (1856-1921). In the Barelwi tradition, the prophet is an exalted presence participating in divine light (nur). There is a strong emphasis on his mediatory role and right dispositions and practices for the same. It subscribes to intercession to god through pirs or holy personages, who form a chain that reaches all the way to the prophet. To the contrary, in the Deobandi tradition, the prophet is projected as a perfect human (insan-i-kamil) and it is believed that the Barelwi position compromises divine unity (tauhid). The Barelwis venerate the tombs of pirs and holy relics. Deobandi groups argue that these practices are heretical deviations from the scriptures.13
2.2.3 Ahl-i-Hadis (People of Hadis) While the Deobandis, Tablighis and Barelwis reached out to the Muslim masses, the adherents of Ahl-i-Hadis primarily hailed from the intellectual and traditional elite. They decried the controversy among the ulema in the name of ijtehad and sought a standard of interpretation to avoid all uncertainties and ambiguities. They favoured a return to the original Hadis (sayings of the prophet) and denied the legitimacy of the four major law schools. They stressed on individual religious responsibility rather than on putting one’s trust on the learning of the ulema. They were strongly opposed to the Sufism of the shrines and the customs of the sharia. They also looked down upon such practices as the urs, qawwali and pilgrimages.
2.2.4 Muslim Being a Way of Life The different schools of thought mentioned above invoked a conception of tradition rooted in an ideal past and argued for its continued salience across the ages. But there were others who thought that their lived way of life as Muslims embodied an ideal which remained valid in spite of the challenges presented by modernity. Such a conception did not exclude the Quran and the ways of the prophet, but saw them as internal to their mode of life. Often, this approach was open-ended and afforded extensive discretion to the concerned believer. There were varied manifestations of this approach, particularly given the complexity of Islam in India. One of them was clearly highlighted by Hakim Ajmal Khan, who played a major role in advancing a differentiated conception of Indian nationalism (Metcalf 2004: 99-172). Proponents of this approach believed in the continued salience of tradition, but at the same time thought that modern reasoning and science could offer correctives in certain respects. They did not think that there was anything missing in the moral and cultural project they were located in, and in that sense were little
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beholden to the modernity that confronted them. At the same time, they were prepared to accept certain aspects of experimental sciences because they would help in critically interrogating certain degenerative and formalistic elements of their own understanding and instil a sense of rigour in their project. Hakim Ajmal Khan, for instance, strongly advocated the Unani14 system of medicine as still valid, although developments in western medical sciences were helpful in instilling the necessary correctives with regard to certain aspects of its understanding and techniques. He was also opposed to the reformist and purificatory zeal of the ulema and their unending contestation on right beliefs and practices. Although a Sunni belonging to the Hanafi school of law, he was not opposed to taking recourse to Sufi saints. Islam as lived life had a wide base but few connecting threads across its vast diversity. Only a small section of the elite related to the ruling dynasties could wear it on their sleeves. For most thinkers subscribing to this line of thought, their cultural inheritance also linked them to non-Muslims and constituted a shared heritage around which a conception of the nation could be built. There were Islamic elements in it but not as a distant, disembodied doctrine but as a lived way of life. They generally disparaged the public contestation between doctrinal groups such as the Deoband and Barelwi schools. While they disdained the abrasiveness of colonial authority in India, they generally thought that rulership was important and that there was nothing wrong in extending obedience to the British. However, there was a caveat here. When they perceived that political authority was not in tune with what they thought was significant in their way of life, and if there was an alternative that was available, they could easily be inclined towards the latter. Further, these people did not see the political as the domain of interaction of atomised individuals but as that of communities. They often invoked larger totalising entities such as Hindus and Muslims in their discourse but not necessarily perceiving their relation in a conflictual sense. A section of the Muslim elite was quite comfortable in assuming this stance given their long association with Muslim rule in India, or otherwise ensconced in the prevailing Indian milieu. This position was also highly precarious as it rested upon the confidence of the unity of the elites. Any kind of deep division across the elites or the assertion of the masses from below could make such a position fragile. The different schools of Muslim thought in India that argued for the continued vitality of tradition under condition of modernity succeeded in reaching out to diverse sections of the Muslim masses and forging a bond between them, which secular nationalists found difficult to reimagine in alternative ways. Therefore, even when they issued a call for national unity, they had to describe it as Hindu-Muslim unity. These schools have continued to attract much talent, particularly from the Muslim youth but the reach of their ideas has been highly confined, if not wholly clannish. While Islamic scholarship of this kind has argued that it has a holistic conception for the organisation of human life, it has not succeeded in demonstrating such a conception in practice. It has little alternative to offer to the epistemological and economic demands of modernity. These schools have not succeeded in creating new bridgeheads to communities and cultures markedly different from their own. december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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While in a certain sense, the positions adopted by Hakim Ajmal Khan and that of the Barelwi school seem to find an echo among sections outside the Muslim community, such bonds are increasingly becoming weak and have little capacity to reach out to new groups. In fact, tradition in all the five formats that we have discussed has remained cocooned. At the same time, they have succeeded in regulating the “private” domain and reinforced a specific axis between the temporal and spiritual domains. It has had deleterious consequences, particularly on Muslim women, peasantry, and other working masses, in making their claims heard. In the way these schools have articulated themselves, they are deeply caught in complicities of power, although they claim to be apolitical. Power as control and regulations has become the tool of the doctrinaire groups. They also have the capacity of eliciting submission by the threat of exclusion. When such ideology comes to be armed, it can become not merely ruthlessly messianic, but internally repressive as well.
3 Modernity Infused with Islam In many ways, this is one of the most complex stances to have emerged in India, calling for not merely a critical acquaintance with the Quran and the Islamic tradition, but also a close understanding of the philosophical foundations of modernity in the west. The framework it employed took overboard certain central concepts and understanding of the Islamic tradition and on that basis, attempted to reach out to related notions both within this tradition and outside on a comparative basis. In carving out a central place for faith under modernity, very few approached this issue with the subtlety employed by Muhammad Iqbal (1877-1938).
3.1 The Relationship between Faith and Modernity Iqbal made the god-issue central to the modern project. Man’s knowledge and attunement with himself and the world around would not be possible without bringing god into the picture. god’s creative power is writ large across the universe, although Iqbal distanced himself from taking an overt pantheistic or a monistic stance in this regard as many Sufi saints had done earlier. God is both immanent and transcendent. He does not merely create the world, and keep himself aloof from it in the bliss of his eternity, but intervenes in it. His creative activity is still extant in the world. Therefore, the universe in many ways outgrows itself. For Iqbal, this did not involve a limitation in the plenitude of god because he encompasses time itself in his eternity. God has created free conative subjects. Freedom in an ultimate sense means inability to anticipate or predict action. In this sense, human freedom also constitutes limits on god’s omniscience. But it is not limitation but an enhancement of his own greatness. It is not a limitation that is externally imposed but born out of his own creative freedom. Thereby, men work together with god for the realisation of his purpose, i e, men are co-workers with him; they are “participants of his life, power and freedom” he subscribes to the idea of “meliorism”, i e, god helps man in his mission of bettering the world, provided man takes the initiative. Reality itself is both contingent and interconnected. Beings have a natural orientation to exert themselves and to outgrow Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
their limitations. Following a strain of Islamic teachings, Iqbal argues that there are various levels of beings, the highest being man himself. Man is capable of knowing the nature of things, but his capacity of intuition is able to fathom reality in its compre hensiveness and in a way feel attuned to divine knowledge itself. Iqbal, therefore, appreciates the great dignity that human beings command in the universe and calls man the vice-regent of god on earth. Iqbal strongly affirms the world, alongside appreciation for human capacity of enquiry, freedom and self-affirmation. These latter strivings necessarily flow from the very dignity of man himself. Therefore, when a system of law or rituals, instead of being a facilitator, begins to prescribe goals and purposes it violates not merely the essential strivings of man, but routes them against the very divine purpose. He, therefore, developed a stringent critique of those moments in Islamic history which led to modes of closure of human ingenuity and creative investigation. Piecemeal reasoning stuck in an empirical context of subjectobject dichotomy has little capacity to grasp reality as a whole. Iqbal makes the distinction between rational consciousness and mystic consciousness central. While ordinary rational consciousness takes reality piecemeal, in mystic consciousness, diverse stimuli merge and form an “unanalysable unity in which the ordinary distinction of subject and object does not exist”. While mystic experience is “essentially a matter of inarticulate feeling, untouched by discursive intellect”, Iqbal thinks that like all feeling, it has a cognitive element and this cognitive element lends itself to the form of idea. Its guarantee of truth is twofold – intellectual test and pragmatic test. The first involves critical interpretation that leads to testing reality of the same character as is revealed by religious experience, and the latter judges it by its fruits. Religious experience is limited to the one who has experienced it. However, such experience can become inter-subjective when “others begin to live through it with a view to discover for themselves its effectiveness as a method of approaching the real” (Iqbal 2003: 294). Iqbal thought that the reasons that propelled modernity and gave a new lease of life to the west have their creative wellsprings within the Islamic tradition. The Quran demands man to engage with the world, to transform it and affirm himself through his creative engagement with the world. Such engagement is not an assertion of pride but connects itself to the creative design of god himself. However, mainstream modernity foisted in the west has severe limitations; it severs man from the creative impulses of his own traditions on the one hand and the larger cosmic purposes in which human action is situated, on the other. Thereby, it makes man as an end in himself and his aggressive designs the reason for his existence. Iqbal thought that the re-articulation of the modern project informed by the Islamic vision would provide to it a different anchor and purposiveness. He felt that the revival of an epistemologically informed Islamic science that linked Islam with modern science was the key to this endeavour. At the same time, he thought that engaging with the scientific and intellectual legacy of Europe was not an alien imitation but should lead to accessing those values and their fruits that Muslims had handed over to Europe.
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For Iqbal, Islam was a religion which took the empirical world seriously. In fact, he contrasted it against Indic religions, which in the pursuit of the divine, neglected the empirical universe. In fact, Islam calls upon its adherents to engage with god’s continuous creative intervention in the world. According to him, “The Quran, recognising that the empirical attitude is an indispensible stage in the spiritual life of humanity, attaches equal importance to all the regions of human experience as yielding knowledge of the ultimate reality” (ibid: 15). For him, “The naturalism of the Quran is only a recognition of the fact that man is related to nature, and this relation, in view of its possibility as means of controlling her forces, must be exploited in the interest, not of unrighteous desire for domination, but in the nobler interest of a free upward movement of spiritual life” (ibid: 16). However, there were philosophical tendencies within Islam which sometimes laid a one-sided emphasis on naturalism or exclusively emphasised on the dependence of the human on the divine, undermining human autonomy. Iqbal felt that this was responsible for the decline of Islam. However, the way science and technology had developed in the west had led to a highly circumscribed understanding of reason begetting a human self almost tailor-made for the purpose. Iqbal called for the employment of a wider conception of reason than is expressed in the natural sciences, tapping the deeper movement of thought which is “capable of reaching an immanent infinite”. Therefore, din is entirely comfortable with reason. Such reason needs to be imbued with three sources of knowledge – nature, history and qalb, i e, heart, by which he meant an inner intuition or insight. Nature is teleological and there is some sort of rudimentary spiritual life in physical matter. Intuition is not a mysterious special faculty; it is rather a mode of dealing with reality in which sensation, in the physiological sense of the word, does not play any part. One of the central concepts that Iqbal introduces is khudi or self. Khudi is creative individuated self and he sets it up “against mystical notions of fana or the annihilation of the individual self in the presence of god” (ibid: 20). Fana is the disappearance of all feeling of separation or ignorance from the divine as experienced by the mystic. Within Sufism, the language of fana and baqa were quite common and denoted annihilation, extinction of the seeker in the everlasting life or duration of god. While Iqbal engages in the aesthetics of Sufism, he criticises it for its view that the knower and the known are one and for collapsing the distinction between the human subject and god. It involves a loss of personal identity or khudi. In his conception of the universe, Iqbal saw the nature of the universe as made of a system of primary selves which are substantial realities, not static but evolving and moving. The human selves, that he termed “egos”, approach god but in this intimacy they become more individuated rather than get absorbed. “The end of the ego’s quest is not emancipation from the limitations of individuality: it is, on the other hand, a more precise definition of it” (ibid: 156-57). Iqbal also denoted god in the language of ego. Both god and human selves are conceived through the same concept. They are differentiated by the degree of self-hood they possess. It is the
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degree of i-amness that determines the place of a thing in the scale of beings. Sometimes, even Iqbal resorted to slippage between the two terms, almost making khudi akin to god by playing on the Sufi usage of ishk, which often denoted the merger of the seeker with the sought. But in Iqbal, ishk is related to khudi: “love individualises lover as well as the beloved. The effort to realise the most unique individuality individualises the seeker and implies the individuality of the sought” (Nicholson 1993: xxvi). Sometimes, Iqbal resorted to the description of the human self as god’s “co-worker” who “shares in the life and freedom of the ultimate ego”, being an entity “consciously participating in the creative life of his maker” (Iqbal 2003: 87). In other words, Iqbal thought man is potentially a microcosm and it is quite possible for him to develop his attributes, making him akin to god. The archetype in this regard is Prophet Mohammad, who becomes almost the theophany of god-head himself. At the same time, Iqbal resorts to a great deal of struggle and prevarications in the march of the human self towards such perfection, as Javid Nama (Arberry 1966), his great poem depicting the journey of the self to the divine, depicts. Alongside khudi, Iqbal was equally emphatic about the significance of community. In his Mysteries of Selflessness (Arberry 1953) he argues that liberty (ikhtiya) is being born from constraint. In order to be free, one has to willingly submit to the law. This willing submission of the self to the lord is necessary for the formation of an Islamic community. Iqbal uses a wide range of terms to denote community such as qaum, watan, millet, jamaat, sohbat, etc. Selflessness or Be-khudi however does not mean the overbearing of the community over khudi; ultimately, khudi is the motor force but it cannot act unless it is situated in a community (Majeed 2009: 53-57). Iqbal celebrated the Islamic community and appropriated the term pan-Islam in his own way. As a poet, he was angry with god for allowing the decline of Islam worldwide, as compared to the global spread of Islamic civilisation in the past (ibid: 59). But while upholding the equality of all Muslims, he acknowledged the centrality of Hijaz, the sacred Arab land, to the Islamic project. In contrast to this, he denoted the Persian world by the pejorative term Ajam, meaning the barbarian. He spoke about the inroads of Persian “Magianism” into the teachings of Islam, and saw the Ahmediyya movement as a re-assertion of a form of Magianism, contesting the finality of the prophet.
3.2 The Relationship between Din, Religious Pluralism and Nation Iqbal defined Islam against nationalism and racism. According to him, the national idea suffered its final fate in Islam. He felt that one of the great contests in the present was whether Islam would succeed in assimilating and absorbing nationalism, or whether nationalism would affect the basic structure of Islam as such (Tariq 1973: 425). In this context, he saw Islam as a living force for freeing the outlook of man from the geographical limitations of nationalism and as an expression of an alternative set of values. In this conception, Islam becomes a universalising religion that calls for de-racialisation. In the context of the historical tension between Arabs and non-Arabs with regard to Islam, Iqbal’s december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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a ttempt was to empahsise, transcendence of ethnic differences. He saw nationalism as “racialising the outlook of Muslims” and contrasted it against the “humanising work of Islam”. Among the different terms that were widely used to denote the nation, he established a hierarchy. Qaum meant a party of men which might be expressed in umpteen forms on the basis of tribe, race, colour, language, land and ethical values. He contrasted it with millet or ummah, which refers to the carving of a new and common party out of different parties. He said that the term millet had increasingly come to mean nation, which was not the case earlier (Majeed 2009: 68). Iqbal made a very critical review of the diverse traditions around which the relationship between human striving, engagement with the world and the relationship with god are posited in Islamic history. There are two aspects of this review: (i) an assessment of the Islamic tradition; and (ii) relation between Islam and other religious traditions. Iqbal felt that there were moments in Islamic history when human reason came to be deeply suspect and man was asked to place his faith in the revealed word of god. Thereby, there was an entrenchment of traditions grounded around authority. On the other hand, there were mystics and saints who did not let themselves be tied down to a set of rules regulations or dominant interpretations. While such strivings contributed to the reopening of fresh regions of the self, particularly with regard to the exploration of inner experience, they often resulted in deep fragmentations. While the former expressions led to loss of creativity, the latter led to a sense of denial of community united in belief and shared practices. In many ways, Iqbal attempted to recapture both the spirit of reason as well as interiority in his body of thought. To capture this sense of interiority, he took recourse to poetry, myths and symbolism. Iqbal also believed that Sufism had a powerful impact on the common masses in Muslim countries and an alim (scholar) was not accepted unless he was imbued with the ecstasies of a Sufi. He also felt that Sufism has been partly responsible for the decline of Islam as it fostered other-worldly attitudes, debilitating people from actively engaging with the world. He felt that his critique of Sufism was particularly relevant in the Indian context, where it had resulted in the accommodating of several Hindu practices into Islam. In this sense, Iqbal contrasted Aurangzeb against Dara Shikoh, appreciating the former Mughal prince for his steadfastness in Islam, against the latter, for seeking a rapprochement with Hinduism. Iqbal believed that the texture of scholastic Islamic theology or ilm-e-kalam, which was rooted in Greek speculative sciences, had broken down and required reconstruction. He argued for the necessity of reconstructing Islamic Law ( fiqh) and felt that it could be done only through ijtihad. But for him, it was not an interpretation of a provision of tradition here and there but a larger philosophical project. Only religious obligations or ibaadat, he argued, were beyond the law of change since they constituted the rights of god. But worldly matters (muamalaat) relate to the rights of people and are subject to change and modification. He felt the latter needs to be modified through a continuous process of ijtihad to make them appropriate to the changing times. He Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
also felt that Muslims should not let themselves be exploited by the semi-literate mullah (Iqbal 2004). Iqbal saw the necessity of a community of believers who can in a way become the laboratory of god’s authentic community and design a modern project which is singularly different from the kind of modernity that the west has put in place. He did not think that living as a minority within a deeply diverse society like India would allow such a space. The reason that prompted him to make the demand for Pakistan was largely premised on this understanding and not on the idea of nationalism central to the idiom of Jinnah. He thought that democracy in a country like India would perpetuate the slavery of the minority and serve the purpose of the majority. In the course of philosophical musings and poetry, Iqbal seemed to be suggesting several discordant projects simultaneously. He envisaged a profoundly challenging modern project with few defined anchors and placed it at the behest of a potential political community that had no parallels before. He sought to retrieve an existing modern project and inject it into a philosophical orientation, that he himself acknowledged had little basis in the present. He thought that several deeply contentious pursuits could be blended together – community and agency; the divine and the human; equality and significance, etc. He interjected intuition into realms where reason had no access, while, at the same time, attributing reasonableness to intuition. He employed the deeply porous spaces of Urdu and Persian poetry to bail him out when his philosophical arguments could not be kept abreast. Part of the problem with Iqbal was his great exposure (Ma’ruf 1987). He was a witness to the great philosophical debate in Cambridge University at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th, that was linked to the advances in natural sciences. His doctoral study on The Development of Metaphysics in Persia brought him into close acquaintance with the great debates with regard to the nature of Islam, particularly in its early centuries. He was also a witness to the debate within the anti-colonial movement in India with regard to the role and place of minorities in the emerging national life. Above all, he inherited the powerful traditions of Urdu and Persian poetry, with their profound beguiling impact. This complex heritage, and daring to engage with it all, makes Iqbal’s thought a much more open-ended endeavour rather than a set of closely argued positions on the basis of which policy concerns can be mounted.
4 Modernity under a Muslim Nation State This stance posited something called a distinct Muslim nationality in India, which was in search of its own statehood. It rejected the idea of pan-Islam and wanted to base the Muslim question on a distinct way of life. It invoked both Islamic civilisation and modernity and felt that under certain conditions, the former15 could be the basis of nationalism. At the same time, it saw modernity as a universal project which could be grafted onto any civilisation. Muhammad Ali Jinnah (1876-1948)16 took over this stance into his control over the years.
4.1 Faith and Modernity Much of the available literature tells us that Jinnah did not confront the problem between faith and modernity, unlike the other
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protagonists in this paper. It is generally assumed that Jinnah was committed to a modern project and did not want it to be dovetailed to faith-considerations. At this stage, I can only suggest the following caveat that seems to go against this grain of wisdom – Jinnah was very comfortable with religion-based demarcation of communities. He often thought of himself as the connecting bond between them. However, when the concept of community constructed on the basis of a religious divide was problematised by Gandhi, who sought a religious bond across diverse religions, Jinnah was obviously uncomfortable. When the issue of democracy based on equality of citizenship came to be raised, Jinnah was at a loss. He had a feeble response to new communities such as those based on linguistic affiliation, which threatened to undercut religious community ties. The essentialised modernity that he took overboard, in which much of the language of negotiation was worded in universal terms, had little place for the complexities that he confronted.
4.2 Din, Plurality of Religions and Nationalism Three ideas are central to Jinnah with regard to the conception of the political in deeply diverse societies such as India – a distinct concept of minority; religions as not merely faith-communities but as distinct social systems in south Asia; and the idea of nationalism. Over the years, he increasingly deployed them together to argue the case for the separate nationhood of Muslims in south Asia. However, whenever hard cases arose, he resorted to one or the other of the three options. Such options depended on political power and its prudential use. Jinnah argued that Muslims constituted a distinct political entity and, therefore, could not be simply subsumed within the category of “minority”. Given the fact that it was a distinct political entity, it needed to find a unified representation. Further, he felt that Muslims should be represented by themselves rather than others speaking for them. These two ideas remained with him across changing political fortunes. At the same time, the options open to minorities depended upon the possibilities offered by specific conjunctures. We can illustrate this by his response to a Muslim delegation from Coorg in south India, on the eve independence when India and Pakistan became separate political entities. The delegation sought to know from him what should be their political approach in independent India given the fact that Muslims had succeeded in securing an independent Pakistan. Jinnah told the delegation that even after partition, a significant section of Muslims would continue to remain in India. They should not sacrifice their identity and individuality. If they were to sacrifice both these ideals, they would have lost everything. Maintaining their identity, he told the delegation, they could “serve the best interest of your country. It is only then that your position as a cultural and historic minority will be recognised and as a minority with these distinctive features you will be able to compel others to respect you” (Noorani 2003: 38). Jinnah, however, was acutely aware of their power quotient – he told the delegation to “avoid occasions of conflict with the majority community and show by dint of your merit and intellectual capacity that you cannot be ignored” (ibid: 38). He asked them to be loyal to India
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as there was no alternative to it. He further suggested that they should be useful citizens by registering educational and economic advance, particularly in technical and professional fields and also in “business activities” (ibid: 38). But he felt that political disintegration is likely to emerge in India soon due to “lack of homogeneity in the ruling junta”. Under such conditions, Muslims should strive to be the “balancing factor in the power politics” (ibid: 39). At no time during this conversation did Jinnah employ the rightsbased argument. Jinnah argued that religions in south Asia were not a private and personal matter. In his article, “The Constitutional Maladies of India” in the London journal, Time and Tide, he said that both Hinduism and Islam “are definite social codes which govern not so much man’s relation with his god as his relation with his neighbour. They govern not only his law and culture but every aspect of his social life. And such religions, essentially exclusive, completely preclude that merging of identity and unity of thought on which western democracy is based” (Guha 2010: 234). Therefore, democratic modes of governance, based upon a “homogeneous conception of the nation such as England” are not applicable to “heterogeneous countries such as India”. Therefore, equality of citizenship, without registering their difference marked by community affiliation, cannot be the basis of founding an independent polity in India. He further argued that if the parliamentary system is adopted in India, it would mean “the rule of the major nation” because the Hindu “as a general rule, will vote for his caste fellow and the Muslim for his co-religionist” (ibid: 234). He repeated these arguments over and over again and concluded that being distinct social orders, “it is a dream that the Hindus and Muslims can ever evolve a common nationality” (ibid: 235). Jinnah increasingly argued that Hinduism and Islam are not merely distinct social codes but different nations as well, “as distinct from one another in origin, tradition and manner of life as are nations of Europe” (ibid: 234). Being separate nationalities they have a right to separate statehood. In his famous address to the Muslim League in Lahore in 1940, where the resolution for Pakistan came to be passed, Jinnah stated that the issue between Hindus and Muslims is not “inter-communal” but “international”. Therefore, they should be allowed to have their own separate homelands “by dividing India into autonomous national states” (ibid: 235). While the Indian National Congress was using the concept of the nation in an inclusive sense, Jinnah resorted to the harder essentialised characteristics of a nation to mark the difference of Muslims from Hindus – “The Hindus and Muslims belong to two different religious philosophies, social customs, literatures. They neither intermarry nor inter-dine together and indeed they belong to two different civilisations which are based mainly on conflicting ideas and conceptions. Their aspects on life and of life are different. It is quite clear that Hindus and Musalmans derive their inspiration from different sources of history. They have different epics, different heroes and different episodes. Very often the hero of one is a foe of the other and, likewise their victories and defeats overlap” (ibid: 235-36). He rejected the term minority to describe Muslims in India – “they are a nation according to any definition of a nation, and they must have their homelands, their territory and their state”. Only december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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thereby Muslims will be able to grow to their fullest in their spiritual, cultural, economic, social and political life in accordance with their ideals and their genius. As a matter of fact, he said, “Pakistan has been there for centuries; it is there today and it will remain till the end of the world” (ibid: 239). Even after four years of the Lahore resolution, Jinnah was repeating almost verbatim the same definition of nation in his letter to M K Gandhi: Muslims and Hindus are two major nations by any definition or test of a nation...we are a nation with our own distinctive culture and civilisation, language and literature, art and architecture, names and nomenclature, sense of value and proportion, legal laws and moral codes, customs and calendar, history and traditions, aptitudes and ambitions – in short we have our distinctive outlook on life and of life. By all canons of international law we are a nation (Jinnah 1973: 238).
Jinnah employed certain notions such as community, minority, nationality and modernity, which existed in the marketplace of the emerging public sphere in India and read a set of formal connotations into them. These were deeply contested notions with their diverse sociological moorings, but Jinnah crafted them as self-same everywhere. He read the sociopolitical reality that he confronted into these terms and erased the counterfactuals that were galore. The modernity framework in which these terms were set was as much totalising as some of the Islamist frameworks that were advanced for the allegiance of Muslims. It is important to point out that there was little place in Jinnah’s modernity for rights and freedoms, and if it was, it was primarily based on political opportunism.
5 Equality of Religious Pursuits within a Single Nation Rich traditions of living with plurality of religions17 came to be invoked during the national movement in India and found expression in positions such as sarva dharma sama bhava (consider all religions as equal) of Gandhi or India’s distinctive versions of secularism, which did not necessarily seek absolute separation between state and religion or strict neutrality between the state and citizens (Bhargava 1997). While several stances of Muslim thought found a complex overlapping with these positions, it was Maulana Abul Kalam Azad (1888-1958), who provided a distinctive defence of this position both in his thought as well as in his political practice.18
5.1 Faith and Modernity In his translation of and commentary on the Quran, the Tarjuman-al-Quran,19 Azad concentrates on three attributes of god that are enshrined in the opening verses of the Quran, i e, rububiyat, rahmat and adalat, i e, divine providence, mercy and justice. T N Madan has pointed out that when Azad reflects on these attributes, he reads them as pertaining to the entire humanity rather than Muslims alone (Madan 1998: 164). In the section on divine providence, Azad argues that god provides for, nurtures and sustains all creation. God also confers an inward impulse in all created beings and things, “to make the right use of the provisions afforded” (Azad 1962: 27). In other words, god not merely provides for all but instils in them the capacity and disposition to access the universal through his providence (taqdir) and Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
uidance (hidayat). Azad also argues that through his mercy, god g sends prophets to all people, not merely affording them the benefit of revelation but also “opportunities for improvement”. In other words, god’s salvation is available to all and not merely to Muslims. He cites the prayer of the prophet: “O God, I bear witness that all people are brothers to one another. Differences they might have created among themselves, but you have united them together with a single bond of humanity” (Shakir 1986: 157). At the same time, Azad stressed on the essential unity of Din – it is not an exclusive preserve of Muslims and to be a Muslim does not remain the essential condition to be saved. With regard to hidayat, Azad argued, “the directive force of divine revelation is meant to afford guidance to every one without distinction, and has to be distinguished from all other forms of so-called guidance which have become the exclusive preserve of particular communities and have divided mankind into a variety of rival religious groups” (ibid: 152). Based on this interpretation, Azad concludes by saying “any religion other than this or conflicting with it is not religion in the strict sense of the term” (ibid: 151).20 Therefore, for Azad, “Islam does not want to establish any new religion, but its mission according to its own testimony, is simply that the followers of all religions in the world be established in their original and unadulterated truth” (Douglas 1988: 94). With such a theological shift, Azad came to stress virtues such as mutual tolerance and peaceful coexistence with other religions. Hindu-Muslim unity became an end for Azad rather than merely a means to bring about national solidarity. It was no longer seen merely as a means to federal unity. Through this reading, Azad called for a return to one’s own religion because the fundamental beliefs of all religions are in accord.21 With this shift, Azad saw differences between different religions as those of law (sharia) and not of faith (Din). It is Din that constitutes the spirit of religion while the sharia is only an outward manifestation of the same. The former seeks devotion to god and calls for a righteous life. Azad, therefore, did not see a conflict between the right pursuit of Hinduism and Islam. He quoted from the Quran to say, “Why should one fight another in the name of God and religion?” (ibid: 182). Azad’s interpretation of Din and the way he set up its relationship to other belief systems was far removed from all existing interpretations in this regard. While no one doubted Azad’s scholarship on Islam, even the sympathetic ulema saw his reading as devaluing the finality of the doctrine of the prophet and core beliefs of the revelation. It is, however, important to point out that Azad did not necessarily endorse the existing articulation of religions but what he thought were their ideal prototypes. He sought purification of existing religions. In many ways this position of Azad was akin to that of Gandhi (Rodrigues 2011: 56-66). This position that Azad assumed from 1920 onwards was significantly different from the cause that he avowed earlier. We can distinguish different phases of the shift that occurs in his thinking over the years. Initially, he had argued in his journal, Al-Hilal, as well as in his speeches, that the Muslims were related to their brethren in Turkey not because they belonged to the same religious fraternity but because every nation must have a religious centre. All Muslims worldwide constitute one nation. The
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Turkish Khilafat was the political centre of the Muslim community and all Islamic movements should rally in its defensee. Further, the primary strivings of Muslims should be not Hindu-Muslim unity and freedom but the unification and consolidation of Indian Muslims as a distinct community under their own national leader owing allegiance to the Khalifa. He called such political authority Imarat and himself wished to become the supreme Ameer of the Imaarat, who would enter into an agreement with the Hindu leaders. In fact, in 1920, he issued a fatwa that Indian Muslims could opt for hijrat (voluntary migration to a free land) as India had become an enemy of the Khilafat under the British (Gandhi: 1987: 227). Following his release from jail in 1920, there was a marked shift in his position. Now, he argued that the basis of Islamic sympathy is not on account of a common domicile or common parentage, but a common outlook on life and common culture. He envisaged the new Khalifa as a democratic institution, elective and not dynastic, and the holder of the office would be chosen on grounds of his godliness and his devotion to Islam. In the third, post-Khilafat phase, Azad shifted his position yet again, reconciling himself to the abolition of the Khalifa. He argued that in Islam, spiritual leadership was due to god and his prophet alone.22 By abolishing the Khalifat, the Turkish government had rectified an anomaly that existed. He tried to redirect Khilafat committees towards social reform, education and the economic progress of India’s Muslims.
5.2 Din, Plurality of Religions and Nationalism One of the themes that runs through the writings of Azad from early on is the emphasis on the duty of Muslims to fight for their freedom: “They should either remain free or perish. There is no third part in Islam” (Hameed 1990: 61). The legitimacy of rule cannot be based on power but on the sanction of the community or nation. Therefore, it was the duty of the Muslims to make every effort to achieve independence (ibid: 35). He also spoke of the inseparability of religion and politics for Muslims, and drew a contrast with Hindus in this regard, saying, “For the Hindus patriotism might be a secular obligation, but for the Muslim it was a religious duty” (Madan 1998: 160). His early a rguments to join hands with the Hindus in the struggle for i ndependence were based on prudence, as this combination was seen by him as necessary to fight against the mighty British. Against the argument that Muslims were likely to be swamped by a vast majority of Hindus, he told Muslims that they should stand on their own feet; that they are “the army of God” and are bonded to a large community worldwide, and have little to fear from the much lesser community of “idol worshippers” of India. But by the early 1920s, Azad saw Hindu-Muslim unity as a matter of principle. Azad found support for the idea of civic nationalism in Islamic theology and jurisprudence. So long as Indians were not hostile to Islam, Muslims had an obligation to be non-separatists. According to him, the hadith, the traditions of the prophet, supported such a policy. The prophet had entered into a covenant with the Jews and pagans at Medina. This covenant produced “one nation”, a Umma Wahida, regardless of those
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who were its members. The suggestion that religious affinity could unite all Muslim countries into one world-state was, he argued, “one of the greatest frauds” foisted on Muslims (Azad 2009: 227). Azad eventually came to strongly argue the case of a single nation (Umma-al-Waida) of Muslims and Hindus in India. It was also his considered opinion that it was the duty of the Muslims to be “united with the Hindus” and said that “it is in accordance with the tradition of the Prophet” (Douglas 1988: 226). Azad also viewed Islam as a liberating force and argued that “ours is essentially a democratic age and the spirit of equality, fraternity and liberty is sweeping over all the people of the world” (Kabir 1959: 44). He deployed a series of arguments to drive home the issue that diversity of religions does not come in the way of belonging to one nation, particularly in the context of India. Azad reinforced the scriptural argument for Umma Wahida with the argument of shared heritage. In his presidential address to the Indian National Congress in 1940, he stated, “I am a Muslim and profoundly conscious of the fact that I have inherited Islam’s glorious traditions of the last 1,300 years. I am not prepared to lose even a small part of that legacy. I am equally proud of the fact that I am an Indian, and essential part of the indivisible unity of Indian nationhood” (Hameed 1990: 161). Azad also offered an explanation for this twofold affiliation, it was India’s historic destiny that its soil should become the destination of many different caravans of races, cultures and religions… this vast and hospitable land welcomed them all and took them to her bosom…these common riches are the heritage of our common nationality and we do not want to leave them and go back to the times when this adventure of a joint life had not become (ibid 162).
He also stressed on common shared achievements: Eleven Hundred years of common history have enriched India with our common achievements. Our languages, our poetry, our literature, our culture, our art, our dress, manners and customs, the innumerable happenings of our daily life, everything bears the stamp of our joint endeavour. There is indeed no aspect of our life which had escaped this stamp (Ghose 1975: 362).
Azad’s arguments were highly innovative and threw up interesting possibilities of engaging with the religious question, particularly given the fact that he was acknowledged as a great Islamic scholar even by adversaries. But his views, like those of Iqbal, called for much greater elaboration and specification in order to engage with the institutionalised forms of Islam and Hinduism in India. Further, by the time he had formulated these arguments, the political slide had already tilted against his stance – the social constituency in which Azad’s argument mattered had already been won over to a form of Islam which rhymed little with his approach. The Indian national movement too, apart from Gandhi, was not serious about frontally invoking the religious issue in the public domain. Most of the national leaders sought unmarked secular mobilisation and believed that it would create durable bonds between Hindus and Muslims.
6 Integral Islam The theological position that Islam is an integral doctrine encompassing both spiritual and secular life was a recurrent theme among the ulema as well as in several Islam-inspired movements december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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in south Asia. However, there were significant differences with regard to the understanding of this relation. Abul Ala Maudoodi (1903-79) was to provide a distinct emphasis to it and transform Islam into an ideology of power. Maudoodi was initially associated with the Jamaat-ul-Ulemae-Hind but broke away from it as he did not agree with its support to the Indian independence movement led by the Indian National Congress. He argued that nationalism was a western concept and was a false idea to pursue. He also condemned the demand for Pakistan pursued by the All India Muslim League in the name of separate nationhood. Such a state would “safeguard merely the material interests of Indian Muslims and neglect their spiritual life as none of its leaders had an Islamic mentality” (Ahmad 1967: 214). He founded his own organisation in 1941, the Jamaat-e- Islami (the Islamic Association), based on the assertion that there cannot be an Islamic state without an Islamic revolution. Even though he was opposed to the demand for Pakistan, once it was established, he migrated there and campaigned for the conversion of Pakistan into an Islamic state, by which he meant an Islamic constitution and Islamic sharia, and pitted it against western secular democracy. The Jamaat also actively engaged itself in the domain of civil society approving and denouncing trends, and often resorting to violent agitations. Two of its earliest struggles were against the Ahmediyyas, who questioned the finality of the prophet, and for the incorporation of Kashmir into Pakistan, respectively. While Maudoodi denounced the Deoband Madrasa, the latter issued a Fatwa asking Indian Muslims to shun his organisation. But Maudoodi’s influence was to spread not merely across south Asia but also influenced such ideologues as Sayyed Qutb of the Muslim Brotherhood of Egypt and political leaders such the late Zia-ul-Haq of Pakistan.
6.1 Faith and Modernity According to Maudoodi, the central message of the Quran was “that Allah alone should be taken as Ilah (object of worship) and Rab (Sovereign Master) (Maududi 2003a). He interpreted the concepts of Ilah and Ibadat (worship) to imply “continuous service and un-remitting obedience” (ibid: 9) to Alahu. Maudoodi saw western enlightenment as “the rule of Jahiliya (ignorance)”, which should be replaced with “Nizam-e-Islami” or the rule of Islam (Maududi 2003b). He rejected the notion that Islam should be measured in terms of modern ideologies such as democracy and communism. The legitimacy and defence of Islam does not rest on its compatibility with fashionable modern ideologies. For him, Islam was a “well ordered system, a consistent whole, resting on a set of clear-cut principles... the various phases of Islamic life and activity flow out from these first principles exactly as the roots of a tree sprout from the seed” (Maududi 2003a: 6-7). For Maudoodi, the root cause of evil and mischief in the world was the domination of man over man and if one does not “believe in God, some artificial God will take His place”(ibid: 15), illustrating it with the hold of the Communist Party in Soviet Russia and of “a handful of Wall Street Capitalists” in America (ibid: 16). When such overlord-ship and domination (Ilahiyyat and Rabubiyyat) gets established, man is deprived of his natural freedom. What is required is the “repudiation and renunciation by man of Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
all masters and the explicit recognition by him of Allah, Almighty, as his sole master and Lord” (ibid: 18). Such a turn would deliver man from injustice, slavery of false gods, domination of man over man and exploitation of the weaker by the stronger. According to Maududi, Islamic political theory argues that legislation and command should rest in Allah because sovergnity belongs to him alone. Islam subscribes to a version of theocracy, where a community of believers submit themselves to the law of god. But in effect, such a rule is the rule of the whole community of believers, united in his law and therefore, he calls it “theo- democracy”, i e, “limited popular sovergnity under the suzerainty of God” (ibid: 22). Maudoodi did not vest ijtehad in any strata of Muslims. According to him, “every Muslim with a developed power of judgment and sufficiently advanced knowledge of Islamic principles is entitled to interpret the Law of God” (ibid: 22). But even men united in faith cannot change explicit commands of god and his prophet. Maudoodi rejected the distinction between the public and private spheres. He believed that the Quran and the Hadis should direct our public concerns as much as they do our private. In fact, the distinction itself is invalid. Maudoodi criticised the traditional Ulema for reducing Islam to the five pillars – profession of faith (iman), prayer (namaz), fasting (roza), alms-giving (zakat) and pilgrimage (hajj). To the contrary, he saw Islam as a comprehensive system that provides for a way of life covering the entire spectrum of human existence – individual, social, economic and political – which must be obeyed and implemented in its entirety. He felt that a person cannot be a true Muslim if he fulfils Islamic obligations in his personal life but neglects them in his political and economic life. Muslims, according to him, must “try to make the whole of Islam supreme over the whole of life”. Maudoodi himself compared and contrasted this understanding with other totalitarian systems such as fascism and Stalinist state socialism – in an Islamic state “no one can regard any of his affairs as personal and private… the Islamic state bears a kind of resemblance to the fascist and communist regimes” (ibid: 29). At the same time, he thought that the Islamic state was vastly different, from the modern totalitarian and authoritative state, since Islam upholds “individual liberty” under the sovereignty of god; it is the united rule of the community of believers and not dictatorship; and it is a balanced system which cares for different segments of the society as directed by law. Maudoodi also argued that in such a system, there is an active participation of members in their self-rule: “All believers are repositories of the caliphate. The caliphate granted by God to the faithful is popular vice- regency. There is no reservation in favour of any family, class or race. Every believer is a caliph of God” (ibid: 32). In such a society, there are no class divisions or distinctions of birth and social position. The only element that counts is one’s personal ability and character. Maudoodi also provided an elaborate scheme of distribution of social goods based upon such a principle. Maudoodi called for a return to the real and original fountains of Islamic ideal (Murad 1984: 71) inspired under divine guidance – the law that god gave is comprehensive and perfect; the sharia is a complete scheme of life and an all embracing social order; it lacks nothing and there is nothing superfluous in it (Adams 1966:
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388). Whatever was not clearly given, he argued, could be derived from the original sources. Maudoodi’s attractive slogan was, “It will not do to say that Islam accords with reason; one must assert that true reason accords well with Islam” (Madan 1998: 147).
6.2 Din, Plurality of Religions and Nationalism Maudoodi rejected nationalism on the grounds of parochialism and thought that “Islam and Nationalism are diametrically opposed to each other”. He distinguished between political nationality, i e, people bound together and governed by one political system irrespective of their social and ethnic composition, and cultural nationality, i e, those who share a thick array of things and intimacies in common such as ideas, sentiments, feelings, moral standpoints, viewpoints, the sacred and the profane, habits, temperaments, leanings, social and ethnic bonds and historical traditions (ibid: 532-33). He said that nationalism is strongly associated with the second rather than the first and termed cultural nationalism as “inflamed nationality”. He was of the opinion that nationalism divides people and inflames passions, making one to accord “preference to his nationality over other nationalities” (Appadurai 1972: 530). On the other hand, Islam makes people transcend their narrow confinements and reach out to universality. It investes man with dignity and, irrespective of his social and ethnic location, calls him to equality. It deals with “man as man”, presenting “to all mankind a social system of justice and piety based on creed and morality” (ibid: 530) and “inviting all towards it”. Maudoodi further argued that “those who accept the principles of Islam are not divided by any distinction of nationality or race or class or country. The ultimate goal of Islam is a world state in which racial and national prejudices would be dismantled and all mankind incorporated in a cultural and political system with equal rights and equal opportunities for all” (ibid: 530). Maudoodi declared universal jihad as the central tenet of Islam. He accorded a specific connotation to it, departing significantly from the earlier meanings associated with the term. Jihad, according to him is not holy war to convert the infidel nor a mode of self-defence, but the revolutionary struggle to seize power for the good of all humanity. He feasted power and presented Islam as a dynamic and activist political ideology which must acquire state power in order to implement its social, economic and political agenda. He believed that religious preaching too is integral to it. This tended to make his version of Islam a political programme rather than a religio-intellectual movement (Ahmad 1994).23 The aim was to establish a Nizam-e-Mustafa (rule of the prophet), where each Muslim would conduct himself as a true Muslim person and the rest remain subject to the Islamic community. He distinguished between a “Muslim country” and an “Islamic State”. The former is predominantly populated by Muslims and the religion of its rulers is Islam, which provides a limited space for Islamic governance, while the latter is governed in accordance with the sharia.24 At the same time, Maudoodi proposed that the methods of government should not be authoritarian – the heads of state and government would be elected for a fixed term through free elections based on universal adult franchise. Similarly, members of the shoora (parliament) too would be elected by the people. The
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I slamic state would rest on the distribution of power to three organs – the executive, the legislature and the judiciary. The Islamic way, according to him, respects the independence of the judiciary, and none, including the head of state, would be above the law. He did not recognise the right of any religious person or group to rule in the name of god. Maudoodi favoured a free economy in which individual initiative and economic freedom of the people are safeguarded and their right to property is upheld. He made the distinction between halal (permissible) and haram (forbidden) methods of earning and spending, and prescribed the necessary restraints. He argued that Islam does not favour concentration of wealth in a few hands, disregarding the interests of the weaker sections of society. He was in favour of abolition of monopolies in the means of production so that there would be no permanent privileged classes. At the same time, those who excel in entrepreneurship should be rewarded, if such a pursuit was done lawfully. Maudoodi’s thinking is convertible to any other messianic v ision of the world, except for its ability to tap the resources of an Islamic constituency nurtured over decades in south Asia, the political organisations that it has spawned and its call for a revolutionary transformation of the world. Maudoodi inserted his call for action into familiar, but emaciated, trajectories of political transformation such as Bolshevism and fascism. At the same time, this thinking has the capacity to nibble into the peripheries of other stances of Muslim thinking that we have discussed above. Given the way Maudoodi celebrated a universal Islamic state under the sovereignty of Allah, any slippage from an inclusive political order is likely to favour his position wherever there is a significant Muslim minority to heed his call.
7 Conclusion All the six stances of Muslim thought in modern India, that we have discussed, acknowledge the primacy of the Quran and the Hadis. They also uphold the need for ijtehad. Most of them believe that Islam offers directives and guidelines to regulate secular as well as spiritual affairs. In fact, they regard the distinction itself as illegitimate. However, the agreement stops there. Beyond these generalities, there are significant differences with regard to the interpretation of the tradition; the significance of tradition itself in the interpretation of tradition; the agency appropriate to undertake interpretation; and its acceptability. While the existence of schools and legacies minimise, to an extent, the space of this uncertainty on many crucial issues, the gulf could be opened wide. But beyond ijtehad, there are thinkers such as Iqbal and Azad who raise fundamental philosophical questions. Several questions that Iqbal raised arose from his intimacy with the philosophical debates in the west and the uncertainty of Islamic tradition in advancing authoritative guidance under conditions of modernity. Many of Azad’s queries arose in the interface with religious pluralism, the larger question of culture and Gandhi’s creative intervention in the domain of religion. While there are several facets of the modern project, some of its core beliefs such as primacy of reflective human reason; a specific mode of engaging with the human on the one hand and the non-human on the other; distancing public life from religious december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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eliefs and the reflection of these developments in science, b technology, industry and division of labour, have fundamentally challenged core Islamic beliefs. This paper has argued that there have been variegated responses from thinkers to these concerns, from upholding a continued validity of tradition to calling forth a review of the foundational principles of modernity itself. At the same time, there are thinkers who feel that the philosophical principles of modernity cannot be wished away and have to be engaged with, while there are others who think that modernity as a set of skills and competencies can be grafted on to the foundational principles of Islam. But there are also thinkers such as Maulana Maudoodi, who think that a different world can be constructed by simply teasing out the principles ingrained in the Islamic tradition and that such a political vision is superior to what liberal democracy, or for that matter Marxism, has to offer. Most Muslim political thinkers in modern India work on the proposition that Islam is the final and complete revelation of god through the prophet. Therefore dialogue with other religions cannot mark any advance. But scholars such as Maulana Azad acknowledging religious pluralism, and the defence that each religion has to offer, throws open interesting possibilities for Notes 1 Islam reached India quite early, through traders to south India in the 7th century and through political invasions in north India in the 8th century. 2 There are people who have argued that we approach the social world of Muslims through the same categories as employed for others (see Shakir 1986: 142-60). In recent years, Ali Anwar and others speak of the Pasmanda Muslims, whose status is akin to untouchables (see Anwar 2001). While Muslims in India are caught in class and caste-like relations, it is important not to miss the difference that marked mobilisation of Muslim masses in India over time both religiously and politically. While the lower classes among Muslims in India, for instance, extended overwhelming support to one set of movements rather than another, they also brought their distinctive emphasis to bear on them, whenever they had an occasion to do so. For instance, the Muslim masses participated massively in the Wahabi and Faraizi movements, which were directed both against British colonial authority and local oppression. There was a strong class tilt to these movements (see Ahmad 1981: 44). The salience of “community” in the nationalist movement has been highlighted by Barbara D Metcalf (2004: 173-89). 3 Sir Syed Ahmed Khan started the Anglo-Mohammedan Oriental College in 1877 (later known as Aligarh Muslim University) for imparting modern liberal education. Apart from starting the journal, Tahzib al-Akhlaq (Social Reform, first issue: 24 December 1870) he wrote extensively and his works included Asar-us-Sanadid (Monuments of the Great), Delhi, 1847; Khutbat-i-Ahmadiyah (Essays on the Life of Mohammad, initially published in London, Trubner & Co, 1869), Lahore, Fadl-I Din, 1870; Asbab-e-Baghawat-e-Hind (Causes of the Indian Revolt), Delhi, 1857; Tabiyin-ul-Kalam (The Mohomedan Commentary on the Holy Bible), in 3 Vols, Ghazeepore, Author (Private Press), 1862-1865; and Tafsir-ul-Quran (Commentary on the Quran, Vols 1-7 , Vol 7 published posthumously), (Vol I-VI) Aligarh, (Vol VII), Agra, 1880-1904; all in Urdu. He founded a scientific society in 1864 to provide Urdu translations of European works in modern sciences. Unfortunately, we still do not have an authoritative edition of the collected works of Syed Ahmed in English.
r eviewing this issue afresh. Simply stated, Azad argued that god’s revelation is available to one and all and this is the message of the Quran. However, there are pluralities of religious forms and practices. Eventually, the course open to a believer is to practise one’s own religion in the best way possible. Being true to one’s own belief will also connect on to god’s revelation. Formulating issues in this particular fashion helped Azad to negotiate with such phenomena as nationalism, justice and rights much more than others, who invoked the primacy of an Islamic community of believers. There has been an unusual emphasis on human agency among all the Muslim thinkers in south Asia and an incessant activity to redraft and re-envisage Islam and situate a believer’s role in it. This mobilisational activity, involving large sections of Muslims in India, in one form or the other, has resulted in several orientations, from a reassertion of tradition to calls for jihad. It is one of the arguments in this paper that the discomfort with the existing situation is pervasive among Muslim thinkers in modern India. While some of the expressions of this discomfort are distressing, others may even be regarded as salutary to reimagine a new and different world.
4 It is important to point out that there is a strong impact of the study of Biblical exegesis that developed in Europe on the approach that Syed Ahmed adopted towards the reading of the Quran. 5 This was particularly important in the context of movements such as the Faraizi that sought to delegitimise British power by invoking the idea of Dar-ul-Haram. 6 It was founded in 1867 in a small town near Delhi, presently located in western Uttar Pradesh. 7 Often, there is a distinction made between greater Jihad (Jihad-i-Akbar), which denotes the inner struggle of the individual, moral discipline and commitment to Islam, and lesser Jihad (Jihad-iAsghar), which denotes legitimate political and military action. 8 Therefore, even when one resorts to terrorism the justification is to create a religious person as the basis of a new society. 9 Many of the founders of the Deoband knew British educational initiatives in India first-hand. 10 In fact, Barbara Metcalf refers to Muhammad Zakariyya, a leading Deobandi Ulema, who when asked about migrating to Pakistan at the time of Indian Independence, supposedly said that he was unacquainted with politics, “but certainly this much is in my mind that the Doab, i e, the place between the Ganga and Jamuna, which became a centre of knowledge, spirituality and piety through the blessed power of the honoured Gangohi, Nanautawi and Thanawi... is such that it has no equal in the world today… the section allocated to Pakistan has no one equal to these leaders nor can such figures emerge there” (ibid: xi). 11 It is important to point out that the Afghan Taliban ideology is largely inspired by the Deobandi Ulema of Pakistan. Many of the leaders of the Taliban studied in Deobandi seminaries in Pakistan’s Frontier Provinces, particularly in the 1980s, when, following the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, millions of Afghans settled as refugees in the area. 12 For an interesting account of the Tabliquis, see Masood (2000). 13 The Pakistani separatist movement derived much of its support from the Barelwis, and the Indian National Congress from the Deobandis. After the Partition, however, the Deobandis flourished in
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Pakistan. The late Pakistani ruler, Zia-ul-Haq, apparently threw his weight behind the Deobandis to contain Shias, but in the process made way for the intensification of the rivalry of the former with the Barelwis. Both, however, are equally prone to jihadi enthusiasm. Unani, meaning Greek, was a system of medical practice that took its core elements from the formulations of Galen and Hippocrates, and came to be developed as a relatively comprehensive system under the Abbasid dynasty in Iraq. Several elements of the Ayurveda tradition too came to be co-mingled with it over the years. There were many other thinkers who employed the language of civilisation in the beginning of the 20th century to denote a distinct way of life, such as the great scholar on Buddhist art, Anand K Coomaraswamy. Jinnah was born in Karachi in December 1876. He initially associated with the Indian National Congress, his moderate stance being at home with the likes of Dadabhai Naoroji and Gopalkrishna Gokhale, who sought liberal-constitutionalist reforms under the colonial dispensation and harmony across religious communities. He left the Congress in 1920 and eventually became the principal votary of the idea that Muslims are a separate nationality in India and that the country should be partitioned for this purpose. Some of the important ones among them were the doctrine of Anekantvad (many paths, one pursuit) in Jainism (Sethia 2004); the Upanishadic doctrine of Eko Brahma; vigya bahudha vadanti (One Supreme Being; it is the seeker who assigns many names) (for an introduction, see Hume 1983: 1-73) the teachings of Kabir in the 16th century (see Hess and Singh 2002); and the doctrine of Din-iIlahi (Divine Faith) of the Mogul Emperor Akbar (see Habib 1992: 68-72). Azad began his public life as the most forceful advocate of the Khilafat and claimed the position of Imam, i e, the Khilafat deputy, but over the years changed his position significantly and eventually became the president of the Indian National Congress for seven years. He was an erudite Muslim scholar who made important contributions to Islamic scholarship through two of his significant works, Tarjuman-al-Quran and Ghubar-e-Khatir (Urdu literary prose). Azad was interned for four
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years from 1916 to 1920 for his political views. There was a substantial change in his approach to the Hindu-Muslim question following his release. He interacted with Islamic scholarship across the world and was widely read in different religious texts. The first volume was published in 1931. Syed Abdul Latif, edited and translated the first volume into English in 1962. Vols 2,3 and 4 were published by Sahitya Academy, New Delhi (in Urdu) in 1966, 1968 and 1970, respectively. Azad was not able to complete this work due to his growing political engagements. With regard to Hinduism itself, Azad was much more inclined towards its Upanishadic version as it invoked the concept of unity of god centrally. He remained deeply apprehensive of the “polytheistic” and “idolatrous” elements in popular Hinduism, which were perceived as a perennial threat by Muslim orthodoxy from early on. This stand of Azad had few takers among Muslim scholars as it did not acknowledge the core beliefs of Islam and finality of the prophet. Subject to this criticism, Azad had to reassert the same. But such reassertion did not seem to have affected his substantial argument and his approach to religious pluralism. Madan (1998: 161-62) has argued that this stand of Azad is in accord with the stand that he had taken in Tarzuman. Ideological combat has been very important for the Jamaat. Its sites of action , generally, are not mosques and madrasas, as is the case with the traditional ulema, but elected assemblies, trade unions, university and college campuses, professional organisations, publishing houses, seminars, conferences and research institutions. Maudoodi often drew parallels between this thick teleological vision and that of Soviet Marxism.
References Adams, Charles (1966): “The Ideology of Maulana Maudoodi” in D E Smith (ed.), South Asian Politics and Religion (Princeton: Princeton University Press). Ahmad, Mumtaz (1994):“Islamic Fundamentalism in South Asia: The Jamaat-i-Islami and the Tabligh Jamaat of South Asia” in Martin E Marty and R Scott Appleby (ed.), Fundamentalism Observed: The Fundamentalism Project (Chicago: American Academy of Arts & Sciences). Ahmad, Aziz (1967): Islamic Modernism in India and Pakistan, 1857-1964 (London: Oxford University Press). Ahmad, Rafiuddin (1981): The Bengal Muslims 18711906: A Quest for Identity (Delhi: Oxford University Press). Ansari, M T, ed. (2001): Secular Islam and Modernity: Selected Essays of Alum Khundmiri (New Delhi: Sage). Anwar, Ali (2001): Masaurat Ki Jung (New Delhi: Vaniprakashan). Appadorai, A (1888): The Present State of Indian Politics (Allahabad, Pioneer Press). – (1973): Documents on Political Thought in Modern India, Vol I (Bombay: Oxford University Press). Arberry, A J (1953): The Mysteries of Selflessness (London: John Murray), translation. – (1966): Iqbal’s Javid Nameh (London: Allen and Unwin), translation. Azad, Abul Kalam (1962): Tarjuman-al-Quran, Vol 1 (Bombay: Asia House), edited and translated by Syed Abdul Latif. – (2009): India Wins Freedom (Delhi: Print BlackSwan). Bhargava, Rajeev (1997): Secularism and Its Critics (New Delhi: Oxford University Press). Douglas, Ian Henderson (1988): Abul Kalam Azad: An Intellectual and Religious Biography, Gail Minault and Christian Troll (ed.) (Delhi: Oxford Univer sity Press). Gandhi, Rajmohan (1986): 8 Lives: A Study of the Hindu-Muslim Encounter (New Delhi: Roli Books).
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– (1987): Understanding the Muslim Mind (New Delhi: Penguin). Ghose, Shankar, ed. (1975): Congress Presidential Speeches, second edition (New Delhi: All India Congress Committee). Guha, Ramchandra (2010): Makers of Modern India (Delhi: Penguin). Habib, Irfan (1992): “Observations on Akbar and His Age: A Symposium”, Social Scientist, 20(9-10): 68-72. Hameed, Syeda Saiyidain ed. (1990): India’s Maulana Abdul Kalam Azad, Speeches and Writings, Centenary, Vol II (New Delhi: Vikas). Hess, Linda Beth and Sukhdeo Singh, ed. (2002): The Bijak of Kabir (New (Delhi: Oxford University Press). Hume, Robert Ernest (1983): The Thirteen Principal Upanishads (Delhi: Oxford University Press), translation. Iqbal, Javid (2004): “Iqbal’s Inquest, Reconciling Islam with Modern Science”, Times of India, 17 June. Iqbal, Muhammad (2003): The Reconstruction of Relig ious Thought in Islam (Srinagar: Gulshan Publishers). Jalbani, G N (1967): Teachings of Shah Waliyullah of Delhi, Lahore, Muhammad Ashraf. Jinnah, M A (1973): “Letter to M K Gandhi dated 17 September 1944” in A Appadurai, Documents of Political Thought in Modern India, Vol 1 (Bombay: Oxford University Press). Kabir, Humayun (1959): Abul Kalam Azad (Bombay: Asia). Kalam, Tabir (2008): “Sir Syed and Muslim Identity” in Shahbuddin Iraqi (ed.), Sir Syed Ahmad Khan: Vision and Mission (New Delhi: Oxford University Press). Khan, Syyed Ahmad (nd): The Causes of the Indian Revolt, Hafeez Malick, translated and published (1982): Sir Syyid Ahmad Khan’s the History of Bijnor Rebellion (Delhi: Idarah-i Adabiyat-i Delli), 1982, p 138. – (1888): The Present State of Indian Politics (Allahabad: Pioneer Press). Ma’ruf, Mohammed (1987): Iqbal and His Contemporary Western Religious Thought (Lahore: Iqbal Academy). Madan, T N (1998): Modern Myths, Locked Minds (Delhi: Oxford University Press).
Majeed, Javed (2009): Muhammad Iqbal: Islam, Aesthetics and Postcolonialism (New Delhi: Routledge). Malick, Hafeez (1970): “Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan’s Contribution to the Development of Muslim Nationalism in India”, Modern Asian Studies, 4,2: 138-39. Maududi, Sayyid Abul A’La (2003a): Political Theory of Islam (New Delhi: Makazi Maktaba Islami). – (2003b): Islam and Ignorance (Delhi: Makazi Maktaba Islami). Masood, Khalid, ed. (2000): Travellers in Faith: Studies of the Tablighi Jama’at as a Trans-national Islamic Movement for Faith Renewal (Leiden: Brill). Metcalf, Barbara D (2004): Islamic Contestations: Essays on Muslims in India and Pakistan (New Delhi: Oxford University Press). – (2005): Islamic Revival in British India: Deoband, 1860-1900 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press), Second Impression. Mir, Sanaullah (2008): “Sir Syed’s Exegetical Vision” in Shahbuddin Iraqi (ed.), Sir Syed Ahmad Khan: Vision and Mission (New Delhi: Manohar). Murad, Khurram, ed. (1984): The Islamic Movement: Dynamics of Values, Power and Change (London: The Islamic Foundation). Nicholson, A R (1993): Muhammad Iqbal’s The Secrets of the Self (Lahore: Ashraf Press), translation. Noorani, A J (2003): “Jinnah’s Advice to Coorg State Muslim Delegation” in The Muslims of India: A Documentary Record (New Delhi: Oxford University Press). Rai, Alok (2000): Hindi Nationalism (New Delhi: Orient Longman). Rodrigues, Valerian (2011): “Reading Texts and Traditions: The Ambedkar-Gandhi Debate”, Economic & Political Weekly, XLVI (2): 56-66. Sethia, Tara, ed. (2004): Ahimsa, Anekanta, and Jainism (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas). Shakir, Moin (1986): “Dynamics of Muslim Political Thought” in Thomas Pantham and Kenneth L Deutsch (ed.), Political Thought in Modern India (New Delhi: Sage), 142-60. Tariq, A R, ed. (1973): “Iqbal’s Presidential Address, 1930” in Speeches and Statements of Iqbal (Lahore: Sheikh Gulam Ali and Sons).
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Public Provisioning of Health and Decentralisation in Gujarat Leela Visaria, Meera Bhat
This paper presents primary data collected from two districts of Surat and Kutch in Gujarat and examines how and to what extent the decentralised system of governance has contributed to delivery of health services in rural areas of Gujarat. It finds several lacunae and shortcomings in the delivery by panchayati raj institutions of public health programmes.
We would like to thank the National Council for Applied Economic Research, New Delhi for commissioning this study and the policy round table on “Public Provisioning of Health and Decentralisation” held in Ahmedabad on 31 July 2010. This paper is part of the International Development Research Centre-NCAER research programme on “Building Policy Research Capacity for Rural Governance and Growth in India”. A special thanks to Kutch Mahila Vikas Sangathan and Centre for Social Science for helping and hosting us during the fieldwork. Leela Visaria (
[email protected]) and Meera Bhat (meeratiss@ gmail.com) are with the Gujarat Institute of Development Research, Ahmedabad. Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
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look at India’s history since-Independence tells us that panchayati raj institutions (PRIs), in their current form, were born in the Nehruvian era as vehicles of development. They were set up in some states in the 1950s essentially to increase the efficiency and efficacy of the community development programmes. Agencies like the District Rural Development Agency (DRDA) were also later established for effective implementation of centrally-sponsored development programmes. However, it was soon realised that the community development programme could not be implemented without the engagement of people and local communities. Over the years, the failure of these models of top-down planning and implementation has been acknowledged and appraised (Shah and Agja 2007). In the 73rd and 74th Constitutional Amendment Acts (CAA) of 1992, that conferred constitutional status to the three-tier structure of the federation, many of the shortcomings have been addressed.1 Interestingly, a nation that took no time to realise the need for a third-tier of government took more than 40 years to make a strong legal provision for its effective implementation and is still struggling to operationalise it. The ever-changing scope of functions of these institutions has resulted in confusion regarding distribution of powers as well as the relationship between governments at various levels. The 73rd Constitutional Amendment Act, 1992 envisages people’s participation in decision-making, implementation and delivery of ser vices to better address issues of people at the grass roots. In order to achieve this objective, it provides for devolution of power to the panchayats. Devolution necessitates the creation of independent units of government with the necessary authority and resources (Harsha 2005). Operationalisation of devolution is the responsibility of the state governments. This means that resources from the centre and the state, meant for programmes falling within the jurisdiction of PRIs, must be directly allocated to these institutions along with powers to take decisions in matters designated to them. The responsibility for devolving functions, functionaries and finance related to 29 subjects of rural development to the panchayats lies with the state governments. Thus, the authority to assess needs, make decisions, allocate funds, monitor the functioning of institutions and individuals would lie with the panchayats at the village, block or district levels, gram sabhas or meetings of all adults who live in the area covered by a panchayat, function as social accountability mechanisms.2 The rationale for establishing a three-tier structure is very strong but has met with tough resistance, both in terms of ideas and practice. The rationale is that the elected representatives
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being from the community have a realistic understanding of the people’s needs and preferences and if empowered with the necessary tools have the potential to become vehicles of social change. Democratisation of the PRIs ensures that all sections of society are represented and the issue of equity is addressed. Compulsory participation of women and marginalised communities ensures that the system slowly but steadily becomes more sensitive to their existence as well as needs. Giving greater authority to the field staff solves problems of formulation and implementation of realistic and effective plans, reduces red-tapism, bureaucratic delays and bad targeting (Sylendra 2010). The capacity of the field staff develops while the top administration can engage itself in better policy formulation and more careful monitoring of programmes. With people’s participation and their increased stake in development, not only do transparency and accountability go up but there is better channelisation of people’s needs through politics. It is also argued that proximity encourages better monitoring and enforcement (Hammer et al 2006). This paper examines how and to what extent the decentralised system of governance has contributed to delivery of health ser vices in rural areas of Gujarat. Literature (Bandi 2011; IRMA 2007-08; Unnati nd) on the state of devolution in Gujarat is available but little is known about how the heath concerns of people are dealt with by the PRIs. Health is one of the 29 development subjects listed in the CAA to be devolved by the state government to the panchayats. Health includes matters of drinking water, sanitation, family welfare and epidemics. The Gujarat Panchayat Act,
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1993 makes provisions in line with the central act devolving functions like oversight of primary health centres (PHCs), subcentres and anganwadis to zilla, taluka and village panchayats, respectively. Functionaries of various line departments are expected to function out of the zilla or taluka panchayats and also be accountable to them. Village health and sanitation committees (VHSC) have been recommended to be established in each village to function as advisory/regulatory bodies to the village panchayats in matters of planning, finances and monitoring.
Objective and Research Questions In the context of health, the role of the PRI is to (a) bridge the gap between the existing healthcare providers and the people needing the services; (b) make health services responsive to the needs of the people; (c) be accountable to the people by making the process participatory; and (d) focus on local problems (bottom up approach) and prioritise them. In the process the PRI should be able to generate public demand for services, ensure their quality and use the available resources (financial and other) efficiently. Also, coordination between the existing health facilities and their functionaries (such as the auxillary nurse midwife (ANM) at sub-centre and medical officers and other staff at PHC) is envisaged. Further, since the launch of the National Rural Health Mission (NRHM) in 2005, services such as of ambulance by calling the telephone number 108, encouraging and ensuring that women deliver their babies in health institutions to control maternal mortality, and ensuring that all children receive basic child
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immunisation have been made widely available in rural areas and are placed under PRI. The underlying rationale is that health services should be responsive to the needs of the people and be accountable to them by making the process participatory. The questions to which we sought answers to were: have health services in rural areas improved? Is there coordination between health department and panchayat? Are all people, especially the marginalised groups and women, able to arti culate their health needs and participate in decision-making as well as in programme implementation? Instead of the top-down approach, has the focus shifted to local problems? Are the immediate concerns of people, such as village sanitation and access to safe drinking water prioritised and attended to while ensuring the quality of services? How were the untied funds at the disposal of the VHSC spent? While interacting with the health functionaries, we also probed into the demands made by the community and the hindrances faced by them in meeting the demands.
Methodology The paper presents primary data collected from two districts of Surat located in south Gujarat and of Kutch in Saurashtra region. The reason for selecting these two districts was that while Surat, in spite of having close to 30% of an adivasi population, is perceived as a progressive district and its health indicators are supposed to be quite good, Kutch is a backward district with poor socio-economic indicators, including those of health. In order to understand whether the devolution of functions, functionaries and finance has led to better healthcare services for the rural citizens in Gujarat, we conducted in-depth interviews of health and panchayat members, focus group discussions (FGDs) with health workers, panchayat members and community members. Additionally, we also attended training of the VHSC in a Kutch village. The research methodology was thus qualitative in nature. The field visits to villages, purposively selected, in Kutch and Surat, were made during June 2010. In Surat district, the longstanding association with a research institution was tapped to identify the two villages that were selected for fieldwork. In Kutch the selection was done in consultation with a non-governmental organisation (NGO) working for more than five years with women panchayat members in the district. In Surat, we held discussion with VHSC members in a sub-centre. Eight of the 11 members were present (two teachers and deputy sarpanch were not present). We also conducted one FGD with women in the same village. In all, about 15 women participated in the discussion throughout. However, an equal number came at the beginning, stayed for a shorter period and left halfway through the FGD. It was not possible to control this behaviour. No health functionary or the other members of the VHSC was allowed to remain present during the FGD. Towards the end, they were allowed to join the discussion. In Kutch, the NGO organised for us to conduct a FGD with the panchayat, VHSC and other health functionaries in the block headquarters. These functionaries came from 16-18 villages of the block. Nearly 25 of them were present during the FGD. Given this rather large number, the discussions continued for more than Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
two and half hours. In addition, we interviewed the panchayat and health officials in Bhuj in Kutch district and in Surat city, and those in the block headquarters in both the districts. The study is based on limited qualitative data and the inferences or findings are at best tentative or more in the nature of hypotheses requiring further in-depth larger studies. Since the selection was purposive and recommended by our contacts in both the districts, it is possible that we have selected “good” villages in terms of the presence of health personnel who are actively involved in the communities. The real situation could be quite different.
Findings Based on the discussions in the FGDs with the community members and with the PRI functionaries and in-depth interviews, the findings, questions and challenges are grouped under the three important arms of the PRI – functions, functionaries and finances. Questions addressed relate to the extent functions and finances meant for health are devolved to the panchayats, the extent to which the health functionaries are entrusted with responsibilities, trained and made accountable to the gram sabha or the community to carry out the functions and whether relevant bodies or committees are constituted to carry out the functions.
Health-related Structure and Functions Health and population stabilisation are included among the various development activities assigned to the PRIs since 1993 but they were operationalised only around the middle of the first decade of this century. Until then, PRIs were neither equipped to take health planning and monitoring functions nor did the health system see a role for PRI in healthcare delivery. Both the National Population Policy 2000 and the National Health Policy 2001, recognised and reiterated the need for decentralisation and convergence of health service delivery at the village level and for the PRI to be the key and appropriate agency for the purpose. It was in August 2003, that the central council of ministers of health and family welfare resolved “that the States would involve PRI in the implementation of health and family welfare programmes by progressive transfer of funds, functions and functionaries, by training, equipping and empowering them suitably to manage and supervise the functioning of healthcare infrastructure and manpower”. The NRHM acknowledged that local governance institutions alone can ensure provision of preventive and promotive health interventions to the vulnerable and marginalised population. The role of the PRI has been engineered into the basic structure of the NRHM, which has refrained from creating parallel mechanisms, and instead, provide scope for the existing social infrastructure to be used and strengthened. PRIs are, therefore, seen as critical to the planning, implementation and monitoring of health delivery and meeting the NRHM goals. The gram sabha is expected to act as a community level accountability mechanism to ensure that people’s health needs are met. The structure created in every village as a representative body to coordinate the health delivery is the VHSC. It is constituted to function as a link between the gram panchayat and the community.
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The VHSC along with the PRI functionaries identifies a local woman resident – Accredited Social Health Activist (ASHA) – to facilitate healthcare seeking and also serve as a depot holder for basic medicines. She is a member of VHSC along with the ANM, the anganwadi worker (AWW), schoolteacher, members of local community-based organisations, such as self-help groups (SHGs), etc. The ASHA’s job is to identify and provide services, to the extent she can, to people in need of reproductive and child healthcare, which range from provision of family planning services and immunisation for both children and pregnant women. Additionally, she is also expected to assist the ANMs in programmes for vector-borne diseases, blindness, TB control programmes, etc, and is reimbursed on a performance-based remuneration plan. In both the districts, under the PRI VHSCs have been constituted. The VHSCs in most villages had nine to 11 members that included the sarpanch, ANM, schoolteacher, the ASHA, etc. However, the officials admitted that most of them were very new and therefore not fully operationalised. Although the circular to form VHSCs as per the NRHM guidelines was issued in Gujarat in 2007 and therefore the ASHAs were identified only since then, the VHSCs had not become fully functional. The untied fund of Rs 10,000 that was sanctioned for each VHSC had been released only once so far towards the end of the financial year 2009-10. The ground reality in both the districts was very different as evident from the interactions with the functionaries and community members. In Surat, the perceptions and responses of the community members and of the functionaries about the functions performed by the VHSCs were very different. The majority of the women we talked to during FDGs, were not even aware that VHSCs have been formed in their village. Therefore, they had no idea about their specific functions. When asked what their immediate health need was, the group indicated that their priority was the provision of potable drinking water; the need for it was articulated again and again. However, they also felt that water was not the priority of the panchayat or the village leaders. The women’s claims were backed by the fact that they were completely unaware of who their panchayat members were, let alone women members. They knew of a gram sabha but some women members knew of it when panchayat functionaries visited them at home to get their thumb impressions. In spite of our probing about their health needs or concerns other than availability of drinking water, the discussion kept coming back to the water issue. The upper caste/class community of the village had a reverse osmosis plant while the tribal women failed to make their demands for chlorine tablets heard. They did not perceive any change or improvement in the healthcare services available to them even after the VHSCs were set up. The health department has continued to provide certain health services such as antenatal care, immunisation, etc, to the people through the ANMs posted at sub-centres. There was no change or improvement in the routine health services that the villagers received. In fact, it was surprising that the women we talked to in FGD did not even know that a village woman was identified as an ASHA worker who was supposed to be a link between the community and the health system and who must ensure that all in
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need of various health services should be able to access them. In fact, we learnt that the ANM of the sub-centre in the Surat village along with other functionaries from the PHC, had identified a local woman as the ASHA. Neither the PRI functionaries nor the gram sabha had any role in identifying the ASHA. The caste politics or dynamics appeared to be the determining factor in identifying the ASHA, who was a quiet woman and had very little idea about the scope of her work or that of the VHSC and had to be prompted by the multipurpose health workers (male and female) even while responding to some of our queries. However, in Kutch, the situation appeared to be quite different although admittedly, our interaction with the community was very limited. The local NGO appears to have been quite active in identifying potential candidates as ASHAs from several villages (which includes some literate traditional birth attendants (TBAs) as well) and recommending them to the sarpanch and other functionaries of the PRIs. Several ASHAs described how they were identified by the NGO and the community, could tell us the specific tasks they performed, how many women in their villages had accessed their services and even shared with us specific details of some of their encounters and experiences. The ASHAs in Kutch knew the activities with which payments were linked and therefore ensured that pregnant women in their villages were registered, received the antenatal check-ups, including tetanus toxoid injections, and children received the routine vaccinations. They saw their work as a successful business model, where every activity they performed brought in remuneration. They further ensured that women (especially those belonging to below poverty line) delivered their babies in institutions to take advantage of the various schemes designed for the purpose such as Janani Suraksha Yojana (JSY) and Chiranjeevi Yojana. Thus, they had become quite adept at discharging those health functions to which incentive monetary payment was linked. To the question, if any woman complained to them about reproductive tract infections such as white discharge, how the ASHA worker would deal with it, evoked no response, except indicating that for such problems women would generally consult private practitioners and thus they had no role. It was evident that an ASHA worker can easily earn around Rs 2,000 a month as remuneration for her work.3 Evidently, the ASHA workers in Kutch have served well in terms of enabling women and children access healthcare related to antenatal, natal care and immunisation; it remains to be seen whether they can or will perform nearly as well in channelising people’s needs through the PRIs. Only if a two-way process exists, would a ASHA be different from that of an ANM or multipurpose worker; in the absence of which she will simply function as a substitute for an ANM in spite of the fact that the ASHA’s training is inadequate and much less rigorous.
Functionaries and Training The NRHM administers three-day training for VHSC members at the taluka level. In Gujarat, the training for them was initiated only in 2010 on a pilot basis. Kutch was selected as one of the two districts where the training was conducted through local NGOs. Kutch Mahila Vikas Sangathan (KMVS), which is a women’s organisation, was chosen to impart training in 212 villages out of december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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nearly 900 villages of Kutch. Two other NGOs were identified who between them were responsible for training the VHSC members in the remaining villages. The purpose of the training was to orient the VHSC members about the functions of a VHSC, their role as members, sharing experiences and providing information on routine tasks. Emphasis was laid on community monitoring of health services, and informing them about the various health delivery institutions in their area. The training given to the VHSC members by KMVS also focused on informing them about mundane issues such as how to select members of VHSC, how frequently to hold meetings and need for quorum, formation of subcommittees, their role and functions. The training seemed to have made a difference in the outlook of the various members of VHSC with whom we interacted. In the words of one ASHA worker: After our training with KMVS, we realised that no women from our village were part of the VHSC, but men and women from the neighbouring village were. This error had occurred since VHSCs were formed for revenue Panchayats and our village is a joint Panchayat. Women from the Sahiyar Federation (floated by KMVS) got together and appealed to the Panchayat, nominated members and a new 11 member VHSC was formed.
Given the relatively low literacy level among women in this region, the NGO had helped a few active TBAs with schooling less than the stipulated under the norm, to become ASHAs and taught them to maintain accounts. A few TBAs present in the focus group indicated that they no longer conduct deliveries at home but instead help women to go to government facilities by calling the 108 ambulance service and help poor women to get money under the schemes launched for institutional delivery. During the FGD, most of the issues raised related to women’s reproductive health and child health. Both the panchayat members and the ASHAs narrated their experiences about the measures that they had taken to provide health serv ices to poor migrant labourers from other states, or to women who needed emergency care. Health concerns of the whole community such as sanitation and water were not brought up during the discussions. Majority of the panchayat members, TBAs and ASHAs were very critical of the functionaries working in the public health system. According to them, nurses or ANMs were not regularly available, quality of service was low, records were not maintained properly, skills as well as motivation were low and some even charged for the services. One TBA narrated an incident where the ANM did not record against the names of the children all the vaccines she was administering. I had taken an infant for immunisation when the ANM mistakenly tried to administer the same vaccine dose twice to the child. The illiterate mother did not understand enough to point it out to the nurse but I insisted that the child was given the vaccine just five minutes ago. Why are you giving the same injection again to the child?
In another case, the pregnancy registration card was not filled up to show what treatment was given to a woman. When she went to her maternal village for delivery, the health staff there had no clue about her status and what treatment to give her. The overwhelming response of the participants was that even those who can barely afford private healthcare prefer it over the indifferent government services. With services like 108 Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
ambulance, better roads and schemes like Chiranjeevi Yojana, people’s access to private services has definitely improved. Many of the PHCs which have been notified as 24×7 PHCs (based on the demand for services according to the district health officer) are ill-equipped particularly in terms of human resource. The women also acknowledged that in many cases where the health worker is a woman, it becomes difficult for her to stay at PHC if the infrastructure is not up to some standard or if there is no local support. The women thought this was where the VHSC (as also the panchayat) could play a facilitative role in making the everyday running of a health facility smoother, thereby also bringing in accountability and ownership.
The Caste Card Compared to Kutch, Surat district is considered a better developed district and we were informed by the NRHM officials that VHSCs have been constituted in all the panchayat villages in the district. However, no training to the VHSC members had been imparted, although each committee had been allocated untied funds of Rs 10,000. During our visit to a sub-centre in one village, we met eight of the 11 members of the VHSC at a short notice. The VHSC included members as per the requirement of having a sarpanch, deputy sarpanch, schoolteacher, female health worker (FHW), multipurpose male worker, ASHA, anganwadi worker, etc. The sarpanch who was from the Halpati community was part of the meeting but was completely unaware about what or why the group had collected there. He was able to explain his own role in terms of mobilising the community. It was evident that he was not taken seriously by the FHW and MPW, who responded to most of the questions put to the group. The health system functionaries talked about the kind of work that they carried out in the village. More than 70% of the population belonged to the Halpati group, who according to the FHW were not receptive to the health services provided, particularly the maternal and child health services. However, according to them the VHSC plays a unique role in convincing families to take medicines, vaccinate their children and use other healthcare provided free by the public healthcare system. Most of the members of VHSC were leaders of their community groups or of societies such as milk cooperative and were aware of various governmentsponsored schemes and benefits such as the Indira Awas Yojana, public distribution scheme, BPL card, meant for the BPL families and reported that they helped families to access them. During the FGD with the community members in the same village where we held a meeting with the VHSC members, women did not even know that a VHSC was constituted and/or functioned in their village or that some woman from their village was selected as an ASHA. The majority of women delivered their babies in institutions such as the community health centre (CHC) and also used the 108 ambulance service for the purpose. However, according to them, the FHW was contacted directly who arranged for the vehicle, etc. During informal conversations we also learnt that the tense relations between the various social groups required taking the caste politics into account while choosing members of the VHSC and that the workers of the health centre played the caste cards carefully. The tension was evident when one of the VHSC members
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who was reportedly present during the FGD, did not admit that she was its member. The felt needs of the village women and the needs perceived by the health official were totally out of sync.
Financial Allocations and Use Both in Kutch and in Surat, the VHSC members reported that they had thus far received Rs 10,000 as untied funds just once. The money was meant to be spent on improving sanitation and environment of the villages, including quality of water, and for the whole community and not for meeting needs of any particular individual. The VHSC could also decide to plan a health diagnostic camp. We were also informed by a district health officer that if the VHSC has a concrete plan meant for the community and fell short of the allotted funds; it can appeal to the district authorities for more funds by giving specific proposals. Since VHSCs in Gujarat have been set up recently and have not been fully functional to plan well in advance, most of them have reportedly spent the money allotted to them on improving the infrastructure of the health centres by buying weighing machines, blood pressure or haemoglobin testing machines, ensuring water supply in the health facility or repairing rooms. Both the districts received the money only in January 2010 and since it had to be spent within two months, the VHSCs had little time to plan spending. In Kutch the training imparted to the VHSC members by the local NGO included ways that the untied funds available to the VHSC can be spent for the welfare of the people. While a large part of the money received by the VHSCs was spent on buying tables, chairs, small equipment like weighing machine, and devices for measuring haemoglobin and blood pressure, some was spent also on getting the village surroundings cleaned by filling the ditches that bred mosquitoes. Small repairs in the anganwadi centres and sub-centres were also undertaken with the money. In one village, the VHSC decided to use some funds to take a poor woman to the nearby hospital under emergency. Some participants from a few villages in Nakhatrana block also reported that they directed the local schools to stock up on sanitary napkins to ensure participation of girls in schools. One of the main reasons for young girls dropping out of school was the embarrassing situation they faced due to menstruation while at school. The girls face an added disadvantage since most of the teachers tend to be men particularly in high schools. The women members of our VHSC wrote up an appeal, asking the panchayat to store and provide sanitary pads to girls in schools whenever required. The fund for this would be provided from the VHSC. The resolution was passed without any discussion at all and our job was done. The health functionaries of the sub-centre in Surat reported on behalf of the VHSC, having received Rs 10,000 once thus far (Surat District NRHM M&E Report, 2009-10). The money was essentially spent on sprucing up the sub-centre. The anganwadi members of the VHSC felt the need to provide durries for the children in the anganwadi centres so that the young children would not have to sit on the cold floor but were told that the money for the purpose would be earmarked for the year 2010-11. There was no mention of discussing the felt needs of the community in the village sabha. The members of the VHSC took the decisions on
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allocation of the untied funds at their disposal. In fact, the need of the women, articulated in the FGD, of clean drinking water was not even mentioned as a felt need of the people. Money was not provided for even chlorinating village wells. Ironically, in the same village, one better-off community group had installed reverse osmosis water filtration plant for its members. Overall, the untied VHSC funds were used for buying furniture (fans, tables, chairs, weighing machines, blood pressure measurement or haemoglobin testing instruments) in both the districts. The decision on spending in Kutch was taken in the meetings of the VHSC members and thus some community needs were met but in Surat apparently the decision was taken by the sub-centre staff along with the ASHA, who was identified by them. Also, a VHSC’s role was by and large perceived as spending Rs 10,000 allocated to it by the health department. In fact, the FHW in Surat already had in mind how the coming year’s allocation would be spent. While speaking to the officials at the block and district levels (including the supervisor, medical officer, district health officers and the staff in the NRHM office), it was evident that they did not have faith in the abilities of people and their representatives either in the decentralised mode of functioning or in ensuring health services. At all levels, there were unwritten but very clear instructions on what and how the money was to be spent. A growing trend, that may be true beyond the government and the health sector, is that most money allocated is preferred to be spent on visible infrastructure (such as haemoglobin measuring device) rather than on smaller, simpler but more immediate needs (like chlorine tablets) or towards empowering democratic processes.
Summary and Conclusions There were some positive and noticeable changes evident due to functioning of PRIs. In the context of health and family welfare, perhaps the most significant impact of the amendments is the ability of women to get elected to local bodies. In Kutch we noted that some PRI women members in their role as members of the VHSC have taken an active part in ensuring immunisation, organising reproductive health camps and generally mobilising women to take advantage of schemes designed for institutional deliveries. The emergency ambulance service by calling the telephone number 108 has become the most widely used service in rural areas of Gujarat. All women, in both districts, including the panchayat members and the health workers endorsed the usefulness of 108 ambulance services for transporting pregnant women for institutional delivery or use them in the event of medical emergency. The Chiranjeevi scheme, a Government of Gujarat initiative, targeted at poor women, was also widely praised by the people. It, however, appeared to us during discussions with women that the panchayat members played little role in publicising, implementing and monitoring the service. The ASHA workers and the sub-centre FHWs have been instrumental in encouraging women to use the services. The media also seems to have played some role by giving wide publicity to these schemes. We found the ASHAs to be far more active in Kutch compared to the one we interviewed in Surat. Participatory training provided by an NGO in Kutch seems to have made a difference by encouraging december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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them to take a range of initiatives. For example, three ASHAs reported during the FGD that their VHSCs passed a resolution that was initiated by the women mandating the village middle schools to stock sanitary napkins in schools for use by girls and agreed to provide funds for the purpose. However, several lacunae and shortcomings came to our notice. VHSCs have been constituted at the initiative of the health department under the central scheme of NRHM and in reality the village panchayat had practically no role in their functioning. While talking to the health officials in the district headquarters of both Kutch and Surat, it was learnt that even at that level there was no staff in the health departments that was accountable to the panchayat department for anything at all. Under the NRHM, there is on paper a directive that suggests that integration can be achieved through sharing the functions and funds of the two departments. But as one official stated wryly, “Integration comes from sharing the same premise”. While PRIs are mandated to carry out health activities, they are not backed by the necessary policy/legal framework, authority or fiscal commitments. Many centrally-sponsored schemes are implemented outside the purview of the panchayats, thus keeping them out of the loop and undermining their authority and credibility. Along the same lines, it was evident that the ASHA who was supposed to be reimbursed by the panchayat on a performancebased remuneration plan, continued to be supported by the health department and was thus accountable to those who provided her remuneration. Even though theoretically ASHA and the other health functionaries working at the grass-roots level are accountable to the village panchayat, they continue to report to and be monitored by the line or parent departments who remain their supervisory authority. The reality is that the panchayat or gram sabhas have no stake in their appointment or functions. The fear of a nexus between a few PHCs, sarpanches and ASHA workers is quite real. This partly stems from the caste dynamics and politics evident in multi-caste villages. The vested interest of powerful people in the village comes into play when money is involved and ASHA workers are selected without the sanction of the gram sabha. Also, in the process, women members and those belonging to social groups other than the dominant group are bypassed from receiving any benefits rightfully due to them. As one elected PRI member, not belonging to the ruling clique, reported that she is not even informed about the meetings and her signature on decisions taken in the gram sabha is taken by visiting her at home. The untied funds of Rs 10,000 for each VHSC were released only once in 2010, although VHSCs were constituted in Gujarat in 2007 and 2008. Also, the funds were released towards the end of the financial year and the VHSCs were instructed to spend the entire amount within two months on infrastructure or on awareness campaigns. This prevented the VHSCs from planning, let alone allowing the matter to be discussed in the panchayat and money was spent in an ad hoc manner. As we noted in Surat, the needs of the FHWs received precedence over that of the community in spite of the fact that each PHC, sub-centre and anganwadi routinely gets maintenance funds from health department. While fiscal devolution is a significant step forward, lack of institutional modalities and clear guidelines on PRI participation and variable Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
capacity among PRI members are responsible for the ad hoc manner in which funds are utilised. Village level panchayat bodies do not appear to be taking action against the FHWs who either charge money for services, or abscond from work, or are even careless in discharging their duties. Apparently, there are no mechanisms established for addressing or dealing with such instances, even though the FHWs are accountable to the panchayat. Based on the Kutch experience where a local NGO was pro- actively involved in strengthening the capacities of elected women members of the PRIs, it became evident that the linkages between PRIs and grass-roots non-governmental groups need to be established and nurtured. The presence of a strong NGO willing to train elected representatives makes a noticeable difference in their articulation of needs, demands and also in getting work done. Capacity-building of PRIs is required in thematic areas and leadership skills, negotiating, monitoring, ability to withstand patronage and political interference. NGOs could be involved in PRI strengthening in a variety of ways, including in awareness generation, provision of technical advice, support in participatory planning, capacitybuilding and facilitating monitoring processes, such as community and social audits to improve accountability. In the area of health, the NGO can organise joint orientation and sensitisation meetings between PRI members and health and medical professionals to facilitate access to reproductive and other health services.
Protecting Fundamental Rights If the PRIs and VHSCs are sufficiently empowered and backed by creditable NGOs, they can take up issues that violate individual rights and discriminate against women’s participation in panchayats. Gujarat, for example, has a policy that bars people who have more than two children from holding office in the local bodies. Such a policy is inherently anti-women, and threatens to undo the good of a decade’s work in enabling women to participate in political processes and violates women’s freedom and individual rights. There have been studies to show that it encourages abandonment of women who become pregnant after giving birth to two children, disowning the third child or giving it away and thereby denying the child of its rights as well. PRIs members can use the gram sabhas for discussion of such issues. Initially, the PRIs would need backing of other informed groups to spearhead debates on controversial issues that undermine the fundamental rights of people (Buch 2005; Visaria et al 2006). In view of the lack of coordination that we observed at the village level between the PRI members and the functionaries of the health department, it is felt that provision of a physical space for all functionaries would help. Perhaps in the panchayat building every government salaried or remunerated person be provided a desk, where she/he reports every day for some time, where a roaster is maintained indicating his or her availability, travel schedule, etc. This would, on the one hand, ensure their accountability to the community and on the other hand, interaction between the functionaries in charge of a wide range of activities would bring out core issues and concerns of the village population needing actions. In the periodic meetings of the various functionaries some of the fundamental or core questions related to the decentralisation
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process can be discussed. The questions such as (a) does the devolution of power necessarily improve the performance and accountability of the local government, (b) does it simply empower local elites to capture a larger share of public resources, and (c) how does the informal process and functioning that has existed for decades in India’s rural areas and where power is rooted in class, caste and gender accept and bring about change in rural societies so that the democratisation and decentralisation take root, need to be discussed at the local level as well. Equally important is the question whether decentralisation on its own is sufficient to produce a system of governance that is more effective or accountable to local needs and interests or that ensures accountability. Finally, there is an urgent need for training in fiscal management, systems training and appropriate checks and balances. The functionaries or members of VHSC need clarity about their roles such that duplication of work of the ASHA worker and of FHW, for example, can be minimised. Both are supposed to be functioning within the framework of PRIs and need to ensure that women seeking health or other services are neither constantly pestered nor are they left out from information or access to services. Annex: A List of Health Programmes That Are As Per the Guidelines Monitored by the PRIs Key health-related functions for each of the three tiers of the PRI are: reproductive and child health (RCH), programmes for vector-borne diseases, blindness, TB control programmes and sexually transmitted infections (STI/AIDS). Many of the activities proposed are related to identification of people in need of services, in collaboration with the health system and monitoring of village level health workers, and primary and secondary healthcare facilities. Currently the PRI are not equipped to take on such planning and monitoring functions, nor is there a cognisance in the health system of the role of PRI. Accelerated Rural Water Supply Programme Under the Accelerated Rural Water Supply Programme (ARWSP), the central government is expected to supplement the efforts of the state governments in providing access to safe drinking water to all rural habitations of the country. The roles of PRIs in implementation of this scheme are: • PRIs should be involved in selecting the location of standpost, spot sources, operation and maintenance, fixing of cess/water tariff, etc. • In the pilot districts, where the sector reform projects under the District Water and Sanitation Missions (DWSM) are located, the district panchayats should be responsible for their implementation, provided
they are willing to take up the responsibility and are strong to do so, instead of DWSM. • At the village level, the individual rural water supply schemes are to be implemented through village water and sanitation committees which should be committees of gram panchayats. • Drinking water supply assets are transferred to the appropriate level of panchayats and such panchayats are to be empowered to undertake operation and maintenance of drinking water systems.
Central Rural Sanitation Programme This programme aims at improving the general quality of life in rural areas; accelerating coverage in rural areas; generating demand through awareness creation and health education; and controlling incidence of water sanitation-related diseases. The roles of PRIs in implementation if this scheme is: • Total sanitation campaign (TSC) is a community-based programme where PRIs are in the forefront. • As per TSC guidelines, the implementation at the district level is to be done by the district panchayats. Panchayats at block and village level are to be fully involved for implementation of the programme. • Where district panchayat is not in a position to implement the programme, it needs to be implemented by District Water and Sanitation Mission which is chaired by the chairperson of district panchayat and the village committees are chaired by the chairpersons of gram panchayats.
Swajaldhara This programme aims at providing community-based rural drinking water supply. The key roles of panchayat in this programme are: • Panchayats/communities should plan, implement, operate, maintain and manage all drinking water schemes; thus, full ownership of drinking water assests are with gram panchayats. • Gram panchayat shall convene a gram sabha meeting, where the drinking water supply scheme of people’s choice, including its design and cost, etc, are finalised. Gram panchayats would need to undertake procurement of materials/services for execution of schemes and supervise the execution of the scheme. • A resolution must be passed in the gram panchaya meeting calling for users/beneficiaries to contribute 10% of the capital expenditure. However, GP can remit towards community contribution from its tax revenue (but not from government grants) with the approval of gram sabha. • Gram panchayat will decide whether the panchayat wants to execute the scheme on its own or wants the state government agency to undertake the execution. After completion of such schemes, the gram panchayat will take over the schemes for operation and maintenance. • Panchayat must decide on the user charges from the community so that adequate funds available with panchayat for operation and maintenance.
Notes
References
1 The first tier or the central government exercises broad administrative powers over subjects of national importance. The second tier or the states have their own elected governments and deal with subjects of state and local importance. There is a third level of government; panchayats in rural areas and municipalities in urban areas. On 24 April 1993, the Constitutional (73rd Amendment) Act, 1992 came into force to provide constitutional status to the PRIs and to urban municipalities. 2 Anyone who is 18 years old or more and who has the right to vote is a member of the gram sabha. All the members of the gram sabha elect a sarpanch who is the panchayat president. The members and the sarpanch serve a term of five years. 3 Many ASHA had brought their bank passbooks with entries since the payment to them is deposited directly in their bank accounts.
Bandi, M (2011): “A Review of Decentralisation in India with Particular Reference to Panchayati Raj in Gujarat”, unpublished paper, Gujarat Institute for Development Research, Ahmedabad. Buch, N (2005): “Law of Two-child Norm in Panchayats: Implications, Consequences and Experiences”, Economic & Political Weekly, 40(24). GOI (nd): “Guidelines for Village Health and Sanitation Committees under NRHM”, Ministry of Health and Family Welfare, Government of India, New Delhi. Hammer, J, Y Aiyar and S Samji (2006): “Bottoms Up: To the Role of Panchayti Raj Institutions in Health and Health Services”, Paper No 98, Social Deve lopment Department, South Asia Series, The World Bank, Washington DC. Harsha, S (2005): “Decentralised Governance and Development: The Case of Karnataka”, thesis submitted to the University of Mysore, ISEC, Bangalore. IRMA (2007-08): State of Panchayats Report (Vol II), Institute of Rural Management, Anand.
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Shah, R M and B Agja (2007): Panchayati Raj in India: Post 73rd Constitutional Ammendment Scenario (Goa: Peaceful Society). Sylendra, H (2010): “Role of Panchayats in Centrallysponsored Schemes (CSSs): Issues and Evidences”, Working paper (219) (Anand: IRMA). Unnati (nd): Note on Devolution, Unnathi. Visaria, L, A Acharya and F Raj (2006): “Two Child Norm: Victimising the Vulnerable?”, Economic & Political Weekly, 41(1).
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The Politics of Market Reform at a Time of Civil War: Military Fiscalism in Sri Lanka Rajesh Venugopal
This paper analyses the paradoxical story of growth/ reform amidst civil war in a country. The civil war in Sri Lanka, the paper explains, has been of functional significance to the promotion of economic growth by mitigating the adverse social impact of the market reform agenda in the south of the country. The escalating military budget in the country during the civil war years between 1983 and the present has compensated for the contraction of the State due to market liberalisation and thus made the reform agenda politically viable.
I am grateful to Nandini Sundar, Aparna Sundar, Nandini Gooptu, Jonathan Goodhand, and seminar/conference participants at the Delhi School of Economics, University of Oxford and the London School of Economics for comments on earlier drafts. Rajesh Venugopal (
[email protected]) is with the international department, London School of Economics and Political Science, London, UK. Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
B
y the late 1990s, almost two decades of civil war in Sri Lanka had wrought a heavy economic cost: the physical destruction of economic infrastructure, lost production, forgone investment, the flight of human capital, and the diversion of vast resources to military purposes were quantified as over a full year’s worth of lost Gross Democratic Product (Arunatilake et al 2001). Other studies quantified the cost of the war as a loss of between 2% and 3% of economic growth per year, implying that ceteris paribus, Sri Lanka’s 2002 GDP of $900 per capita was half of what it would have been if there had been no war (CBSL 1998, quoted in World Bank 2004: 10). The north-eastern part of the island in particular suffered to a very disproportionate extent during these years, and came to have the lowest income levels, the highest poverty levels, and the worst provision of health and education in the island (Sarvananthan 2008). Indeed, due to the exclusion of the north-east from national accounts and most census statistics since 1990, much of the cost of the war is not incorporated into published GDP and other socio-economic data. Nevertheless, despite the extent of economic destruction and missed opportunities, what is striking about Sri Lanka, parti cularly in comparison to other such countries, is the extent to which economic “normality” prevailed through the war years in most of the country. A comparative study of the economic and social consequences of civil war in seven countries found that Sri Lanka was unique not just in having experienced economic growth amid war, but in economic growth rates that exceeded the pre-war period (Fitzgerald et al 2001; O’Sullivan 2001). Compared to other conflict-ridden countries where war has caused the substantial destruction of the formal economy and resulted in negative growth rates, Sri Lanka stands out as a curious exception (Stewart and Fitzgerald 2001). Indeed, the war years, and particularly the decade of the 1990s, were paradoxically a time of strong economic growth, continuing market reforms, and substantial structural transformation of the economy. During the first 15 years of war between 1983 and 1998, real GDP growth averaged 4.6% annually while exports multiplied almost threefold in real terms (World Bank 2001). Throughout the war period, governments from different political parties continued to implement market reforms while promoting a successful export-driven industrialisation process. During the 1980s and 1990s, Sri Lanka developed a two billion dollar garment export industry virtually from scratch, ending a century of reliance on the tea crop (UNCTAD 2000). Considering that this growth occurred and was partially offset by war-related destruction (estimated at 2%-3% each year), it would appear that
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the underlying momentum of economic growth during the war period was actually quite spectacular. Similarly, the “open economy” policy of market reforms which began in 1977, and the privatisation programme which began in 1989, also continued to unfold and expand through the war, proving resilient and even gaining in momentum through periods of economic, political and military crisis.
Economic Growth during Civil War What accounts for this curious paradox of economic growth and policy reform amidst the destruction of civil war? Compared to other countries, where the disruptions of war have caused major delays, reversals, and even the complete abandonment of the market reform process, Sri Lanka appears unique – even exceptional. Indeed, within the unreconstructed positivism of mainstream development economics, where the quest for the sources of economic growth remains paramount, the Sri Lankan experience might even be seen as a triumph – as a useful example from which policy experiences of relevance to other conflict-ridden countries might be extracted on how economic growth and reform can be achieved despite war. Instead this paper takes the paradox of growth/reform amidst war as the point of departure to formulate a different set of research questions on the relationship between development and conflict. Importantly, this does not start off with the casual assumption that growth and reform took place despite war, but instead explores a variety of alternate mechanisms by which the two processes might have related to each other. The simplest and most intuitive explanation for this paradox of economic growth amidst war in Sri Lanka during the 1980s1990s is in terms of the physical separation of the dynamics of the two processes. In geographical terms, the locus of destruction in the north-east was clearly segregated from the locus of economic growth in the south-west. Although the south has been quite seriously affected by the war through suicide bomb explosions, the constant stream of casualties from the front, and the militarisation of daily life (De Mel 2007), it bears little comparison to the scale, intensity and duration of human suffering and economic dislocation in the north-east. The war compounded the pre-existing economic marginality and backwardness of this area, which had long before been neglected, remote, and impoverished characterised by an arid, austere agricultural economy. Indeed, the difference between the two parts has for long been so stark that a journey from the rest of “normal” Sri Lanka, north of Anuradhapura, or east of Polonnaruwa not only gave one the appearance of entering an entirely different country with a different language, culture, topography and ecology, but of embarking on time-travel a few decades back to an era largely innocent of cars, telephones, paved roads or electrical appliances. The war was sealed off within the bounds of the economically peripheral north-east at a time of rapid economic growth in the south, making it not just more impoverished in absolute and relative terms, but ever more economically disconnected and irrelevant to the island’s economic development as a whole. Consequently, the pre-existing physical, linguistic and psychological differences between the two parts was magnified by a growing
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economic rift that contributed to the separation and mutual incomprehensibility of the populations of the north-east and south. There is as such a fairly straightforward and intuitive answer to the paradox. Sri Lanka experienced economic growth amidst war because the war was confined to the economically peripheral north-east, while the more prosperous south-west, with the tea plantations, export-processing zones and tourist resorts remained remarkably well insulated from its direct effects, and enjoyed a large measure of political and economic normality.
Development and Destruction There is however much that remains unexplained and underexplained by viewing this problem in terms of the segregation of these two processes. In reality, development and destruction were never entirely separated, but have interacted and even found sustenance in each other in a variety of ways. For example, the economic growth and stability in the south has arguably been a factor in the continuation of the war in the north, as it provided the government with a steady and growing fiscal base with which to fund its escalating military budget. In addition, the comparative normality of civilian life in the south rendered the war as a distant reality to the large majority of the population, who were as a result, less impressed with a sense of urgency about bringing it to an end. Moreover, the much vaunted economic prosperity of the south has in reality been very unbalanced such that large parts of the rural hinterland further away from Colombo have little to show for it, and are only marginally better off than the war-torn districts of the north-east that they border. For the most part, it is the western province that has enjoyed the benefits of growth, expanding its share of national GDP from 40.2% to 49.4% between 1990 and 2000 (CBSL various). The very skewed and unequal nature of the prosperity generated in the 1990s is also evident in terms of the negligible impact it has had on the poverty headcount. Partly as a consequence of this imbalance, large parts of the south have not been insulated from the war at all, but have instead found themselves increasingly drawn into it and have even become dependent upon it in a variety of ways. The “separate spheres” paradigm explains the sources of Sri Lanka’s war-time growth by viewing the north and the south as disconnected spaces, and by categorising growth and conflict as analytically discrete, distinct phenomena belonging to separate, self-contained domains of policy formulation and implementation. This paper contends that there are serious shortcomings with this paradigm, and suggests instead that civil war in the north and market reform driven economic growth in the south were not quite as separate as they might seem. It argues that the civil war has actually been of functional significance for the promotion of economic growth through the fiscal multiplier effects of the growing military budget. In a nutshell, this paper sets out an argument that the civil war has been of functional significance to the promotion of economic growth by mitigating the adverse social impact of the market reform agenda in the south. In effect, the escalating military budget compensated for the contraction of the State due to market liberalisation, and thus made the reform agenda politically viable. december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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By the 1990s, the army had become the single largest employer in the country, offsetting the reduction in civilian state employment under the reforms, and containing the growing inequalities of this period. This had the largely unintended and unforeseen consequence of facilitating the market reform agenda by helping to win the passive quiescence, if not the active consent to an economic reform agenda that was broadly opposed by large segments of the population. Before proceeding, there are several important qualifications and issues of relevance to note. Firstly, the relationship between growth/reforms and war outlined here is a functional, not a causal relationship. Although the ongoing civil war has provided sources of political, socio-economic, ideological support for the economic reform agenda, this relationship holds only in the sense of a static equilibrium, and it does not explain the evolution of the conflict or reform agenda into being. The spirit of the functional relationship between conflict and reform outlined here draws upon the similar way that James Ferguson’s ethnography of foreign aid in Lesotho frames the impact of development on the bureaucratisation of state power (Ferguson 1994). Ferguson in turn draws inspiration from a Foucauldian functionalism, which searches for instrumentality behind the veil of disorder and dysfunction to ask what agendas are served and upheld by the persistent condition of failure (Foucault 1979). In much the same spirit, this paper seeks to go beyond the rhetoric of failure and dysfunctionality that pervades the literature on the development implications of the conflict in Sri Lanka. In contrast to the mainstream literature that views the persistent conflict as a source of development failure, it draws on the work of David Keen to ask instead what functions did the war serve? What interests does it serve to uphold? What kinds of development has it given rise to? (Keen 2006, 2008). In framing the relationship in this manner, there is an important qualification to bear in mind: by looking for instrumentality within disorder, there is no suggestion here that disorder is the handiwork of those that benefit from it. As James Ferguson (1994: 255-56) describes: If unintended effects of a project end up having political uses, even seeming to be ‘instruments’ of some larger political deployment, this is not any kind of conspiracy; it really does just happen to be the way things work out.
Similarly here, the functional role that the conflict played in promoting the reform agenda was not the result of a conscious conspiracy hatched by far-sighted manipulative elites. Sri Lanka’s capitalist class and pro-reform elites did not dream up the ethnic conflict in order to smuggle in their class agenda under a cloud of false consciousness. Indeed, Sri Lanka’s market reformist elites were arguably the segment of society who were least invested in the project of Sinhala nationalism, and least interested in the continuation of the civil war.1 Finally, in looking at the Sri Lankan civil war through the lens of the politics of market reform, there is also another motivation and underlying theme that is sought to be highlighted. Due to the phenomenon of “ethnic over-determination”, and the relentless intrusion of the conflict into every sphere of life, the literature on Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict often suffers from an analytical Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
solipsism; i e, it takes place within the discursive categories and frames of reference that are self-generated by the conflict itself. As Jonathan Spencer (2002: 93) describes: Since the mid-1980s, almost all attention has focused on the ethnic crisis and the escalating civil war, and somehow the issue of the distribution of power and resources within the polity have lost their academic urgency.
Indeed, the dynamics of the conflict are implicitly presumed to take place within the confines of a universe where the only actors and identities available are the ethnicities in question themselves, who enter the analysis as fully-formed, timeless, monolithic, pervasive, inescapable, and pre-disposed to mutual confrontation. What follows is that the writing on the ethnic conflict (and not just the more spirited and partisan exchanges in the media) often suffers from what Zygmunt Bauman describes of the holocaust literature, where “discussion of guilt masquerades as the analysis of causes” (Bauman 1989: xi). As a result, it is important to delink the study of the conflict from itself, as it were, and to situate it more within the larger field of politics, policymaking, and political contention, where it shares and jostles for space as just one among a series of other issues, where the important decisions on the conflict are made in a complicated environment where it is balanced and contingent upon numerous other pressing political agenda items and at times, some quite narrow tactical political calculations.
The Politics of Market Reform The problematique of the politics of market reform in Sri Lanka can for most purposes be reduced to a simple question: how do democratically elected governments go about implementing unpopular economic policies that are certain to damage their electoral prospects? Sri Lanka’s market reform agenda suffers from inherent unpopularity and lack of popular legitimacy that makes it an electoral handicap for any party that wishes to adopt it. Yet, the prerogatives of a perpetually insolvent treasury, combined with pressure from foreign donors, and the powerful lobbying of domestic and foreign business groups has forced every government since 1977 to pursue some measure of this unpopular agenda. How, one must ask, did they pull it off? There is, and has been in Sri Lanka and in other countries, the perpetual anxiety that the contradictions of this process would become untenable – that either democracy or reforms would give way, leading to free-market dictatorships or dirigiste democracies. And indeed, if one looks at the comparative experiences of the politics of market reform literature, one comes across very similar situations where this contradiction led to great stress. Without digressing into an expansive review of the comparative literature, liberal democracies were typically preserved through market reforms only with great difficulty and ingenuity. As Rob Jenkins (1999: 206) describes it: “Pushing through reform measures requires a broad range of underhanded tactics”. The empirical literature describes how successful reforms were implemented through the establishment of authoritarianism or political domination – either in terms of political dictatorships and the sheer absence of democratic mechanisms, or more often through the domination of extant democratic mechanisms by a pro-reform
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party or coalition, and the insulation of the reform agenda from the pressures of electoral politics.2 In other cases, reforms involved the containment of sources of opposition through coercion, co-option or corruption, but more often through legislative, political or administrative measures, such as restrictions on trade unions. Yet another set of strategies involved the promotion of alternative forms of legitimacy and other sources of political division to counter the centrality of the reforms agenda, and to neutralise the legitimacy-deficit that they created. Sri Lanka’s experience with market reforms have two important specificities to bear in mind. Firstly, the economic reform agenda has, since its introduction in 1977, proceeded apace in parallel with the prosecution of a worsening ethnic conflict, and its escalation to the civil war in 1983. Sri Lanka’s switch from state to market in 1977 occurred significantly ahead of the wave of market reform that swept Latin America and Africa in the 1980s, and more than a decade before it came to India. Market reforms and the ethnic conflict have, since 1977, been the two dominant issues on the Sri Lankan political agenda, but apart from a spirited, but short-lived burst of writing in the late-1980s that asserted a causal link between them, they are for the most part not related analytically in the study of either one.3 Secondly, the market reform agenda in Sri Lanka has had to contend with the fact that it is widely viewed as illegitimate within the dominant framework of political morality that regulates state-society relations. The development of electoral politics in Sri Lanka from the 1930s-1970s occurred parallel to and in close connection with the construction of a massive social democraticwelfare state. Political parties competed and came to power on populist electoral platforms to expand the role of the State; and in doing so, helped enshrine certain moral notions of the legitimate and necessary role of the State. The provision of public services such as free education and health, public employment, the protection of peasant agriculture and rural life against the pressures of internal capitalist expansion and international market pressures, the alleviation of poverty and social inequalities, together with the promotion of the Sinhala language and patronage of the Buddhist religion had over this period come to comprise the elements of the moral economy. Within it the very legitimacy and stability not just of any single government but of the State itself and the political system was hinged. This universe of political morality is in essence constitutive of Sinhala nationalism, which can be understood for these purposes as the ideology of an ethnicised social democratic state in which it is seen as having deep moral obligations towards society in general, and the material and spiritual needs of poorer, rural SinhalaBuddhists in particular. As a result, the politics of market reform in Sri Lanka is not just about the implementation of an unpopular agenda, but also includes one that runs counter to deeply ingrained notions of what the legitimate and just role of the State should be. How, it must be asked, did the government, the State, and the institutions of electoral politics survive such a direct assault upon the system of public legitimacy which had sustained it thus far? Related work elsewhere describes how the prerogative of winning consent for the market reform agenda contributed indirectly towards the catalysis of the civil war (Venugopal 2010). In seeking
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to compensate for the sources of their electoral failures in the past, the United National Party (UNP) governments of J R Jayawardene and Ranasinghe Premadasa in the post-1977 period sought to preempt the opposition by seizing the mantle of both Sinhala nationalism and social justice. As a result, the prosecution of the reform agenda effectively created the conditions that shrivelled the political possibilities for compromise on the ethnic conflict. The underlying issue this pointed towards was that market reform and the resolution of the ethnic conflict were both controversial and to some extent mutually complementary projects of state reform. Many of the underlying problems of the ethnic conflict were caused in terms of the way in which the social democratic state had been constructed under the development enterprise in the 1940s-1970s in response to the pressures of Sinhala nationalism, demographic change, and the prerogatives of protecting and preserving the Sinhalese peasantry. As a consequence, the politics of market reform revolved around two mechanisms – ideological and material. In ideological terms, the market reforming UNP affected an exaggerated performance of Sinhala-Buddhist authenticity. In material terms, they compensated for the withdrawal of the state and the marketisation of some spheres of activity by the aid-funded expansion of the state in other spheres, including massive rural development projects. This paper extends that analysis of the 1980s through to the Kumaratunga years of the late 1990s to describe how the State unwittingly expanded its presence in one sphere (military expenditure) while simultaneously withdrawing significantly in other areas through privatisation. It suggests that this had the unwitting effect of diffusing and moderating the social impact of the reforms, particularly in providing a vast source of state employment opportunities to young Sinhalese men of poor, rural backgrounds.
Military Fiscalism The term “military fiscalism” features widely in the historical literature on state formation in early modern Europe, relating the growth of formal state institutions and domestic capital accumulation to the compulsion of funding increasingly expensive militaries. As Charles Tilly (1975: 42) describes, “war made the state, and the state made war”. Military fiscalism also features in the history of state formation in south Asia, for example in the work of Chris Bayly, Burton Stein, David Washbrook, and Douglas Peers.4 As with the European experience, they also describe how military imperatives forged the innovation of centralised bureaucracies dedicated to systematised revenue collection. In this paper, “military fiscalism” is used to describe a different sequence of relationships, but also one that continues to relate military spending, the polity, and the economy. In the early 1970s, a controversial study by the economist Emile Benoit made the unusual and counter-intuitive finding that there was a positive, causal correlation between military expenditures and economic growth in developing countries.5 Military spending, Benoit concluded, had a Keynesian fiscal effect on aggregate demand, generating positive multiplier effects. It created beneficial externalities for the civilian economy by: feeding, clothing, and housing a number of people who would otherwise have to be fed, housed, and clothed by the civilian economy and sometimes doing december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
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so, especially in LDCs, in ways that involve sharply raising their nutritional and other consumption standards and expectations. Benoit’s findings provoked a series of critical rejoinders in the coming years, in which the empirical validity of the results and its theoretical foundations were subject to vigorous challenge (Ball 1983; Faini et al 1984; Deger 1986). At about the same time, Paul Baran and Paul Sweezy’s classic 1966 work on monopoly capital also argued for a positive correlation between military spending and economic growth, albeit this argument applied to advanced capitalist countries. One of the key links posited by Baran and Sweezy (1966: 531) is that millions of jobs are generated by military expenditure, and that this in turn, absorbs the reserve army of labour: Some six or seven million workers, more than 9% of the labour force, are now dependent for jobs on the arms budget. If military spending were reduced once again to pre-second world war proportions, the nation’s economy would return to a state of profound depression, characterised by unemployment rates of 15% and up, such as prevailed during the 1930s.
In somewhat similar vein the high levels of military expenditure associated with a prolonged civil war had an important positive impact on sociopolitical stability in Sri Lanka. At a time of growing inequalities and social tensions generated during the market reform period, military employment created the stabilising sociopolitical conditions within which economic growth was preserved and a controversial programme of privatisation and market reforms could be implemented. Before proceeding to examine exactly what this signified, it is important to recapitulate the historical role of the public sector and welfare spending in its period of expansion in Sri Lanka. The opening of free secondary education in 1944 and the expansion and vernacularisation of the social democratic state in the 1950s and 1960s had in this period made it possible for tens of thousands of relatively poor families to escape rural adversity and join the urban middle class. It was a time of unprecedented upward social mobility, although it is probably true that the new opportunities for social advancement and inter-generational class mobility were disproportionately exploited by relatively wealthier segments of rural society. What occurred in those decades was more of a process of transition from the middle to upper ranks of the peasantry to the lower-middle ranks of the bureaucracy, or what I have described as “kulaks to clerks” (Venugopal 2009). As the State grew rapidly in size, and became more Sinhaladominated from the mid-1950s onwards, the composition of whitecollar segments of the government service down to and including clerks and typists were gradually transformed from being dominated by Jaffna Tamils, Sinhalese Christians, and Eurasians of urban middle class English-educated backgrounds, to vernacular-educated Sinhala Buddhists of rural backgrounds, in many cases, literally straight from the villages. This process occurred through the 1950s1980s, providing a significant portion of the rural population with a viable and realistic opportunity for upward mobility.
Shift from Public to Private This dynamic had however, begun to change quite significantly by the 1990s. Under the impact of the privatisation agenda which began in 1989, and also because of the extended atrophy of the Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
state, the possibilities of escaping rural poverty through education and state employment became far more meagre than they were for the previous two generations.6 This was also accompanied by a broad shift in this period from the public to the private sector as the source of available employment opportunities. The 1990s were a decade when the public sector share of total employment dropped from 21.5% to 13.4%, most of which was picked up by the expanding private sector (Labour Force Annual Surveys). The diminished opportunities for upward mobility that accompanied the shift from public to private employment are reflected in a number of different indicators, such as income inequality. As Osmani (1994: 294) describes, “there is clear evidence to suggest that post-reform growth has been of an exceedingly unequalising kind”. Figure 1 shows how the income shares of the top 10% versus the bottom 50% declined steadily under welfarism from the 1950s to the mid-1970s. But following the introduction of the reforms in the late-1970s, inequality levels increased very sharply, effectively undoing in one decade what had been achieved under welfarism over the previous three decades.7 Figure 1: Percentage of Total Income By Ranked Spending Unit (in %) 45 0.45 Top 10%
35 0.35
25 0.25
Bottom 50% 15 0.15
1953
1963
1973
1978
1981
1986
Data drawn from World Bank (1995), Table 1.1. (Percentage of total one month pre-tax income received by each decile of ranked spending units.)
Subsequent studies have shown that inequality continued to grow in the 1990s, fuelled by high rates of economic growth that were matched by very low rates in poverty reduction. The World Bank’s 2004 development policy review of Sri Lanka describes the following situation: Of particular concern is the fact that poverty reduction has been slow while income inequality has risen in recent years. At 22.7%, the national poverty headcount ratio remains high for a country with $900 per capita GDP. Furthermore, the rate of decline in this ratio has been modest despite sustained per capita annual GDP growth of over 3 per cent per year over the last two decades (World Bank 2004: i).
Similarly, the Poverty Reduction Strategy Paper (PRSP) from 2002 describes: ... a modest growth rate has been accompanied by little or no income redistribution. In other words, the benefits of economic growth have not automatically trickled down to the poor (Government of Sri Lanka 2003, Part 2: 28).
Gunatilaka and Chotikapanich (2006) use household data to explain that there was a steady increase in inequality (through the Gini coefficient) in Sri Lanka between 1980 and 2002 – but with a particularly sharp increase during the 1990-2002 period. Narayan and Yoshida (2005: Table 6) similarly find that in these years, the mean real per capita consumption of the top quintile of
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the population increased by 50.4%, while that of the bottom It is within these circumstances of greater economic inequality, quintile increased by just 2.2%. Per capita income increased in regional concentration, an expanding rural-urban gap, and an this period by a total of 45%, but it had a marginal impact on almost precipitous decline of peasant agriculture that military the poverty headcount, which went down just 3.4 points from employment came to occupy an important role in the Sinhalese 26.1% to 22.7%. This too was overwhelmingly concentrated village. Over the course of the 1980s and 1990s, Sri Lanka’s military in urban districts such that the poverty headcount was either grew tenfold, from 15,000 in 1982 (the year before the war started) the same or had increased in 9 of 17 districts during the 1990s to 1,50,000 by the time of the ceasefire of 2002 (Figure 2). (excluding the north-east).8 Including the police and paramilitaries, the size of the security The increase in economic inequality manifest in these data can sector increased from a total of 30,000 in 1982 to 2,50,000 by 2002. be disaggregated further into regional and sectoral Figure 2: Sri Lanka, Numerical Strength of Security Forces (1982-2002) 250000 dynamics. For example, a very disproportionate 2,50,000 share of the growth in this period was regionally conPolice Air Force centrated in the western region around greater Co- 2,00,000 200000 Navy lombo which between 1990 and 2000 increased its Army share of national GDP from 40.2 am to 49.4% (CBSL 1,50,000 150000 various). There was also a significant sectoral imbalance in the growth, which came largely from the in1,00,000 100000 dustrial and service sectors. In contrast, there is evidence of an unusually rapid decline in the agricul50,000 50000 tural economy, both in relative and absolute terms. In just the decade from 1990-2001, the workforce em00 ployed in agriculture had declined from 47% to 33%, 1982 1983 1983 1984 1984 1985 1985 1986 1986 1987 1987 1988 1988 1989 1989 1990 1990 1991 1991 1992 1992 1993 1993 1994 1994 1995 1996 1995 1996 1997 1997 1998 1998 1999 1999 2000 2000 2001 2001 2002 2002 1982 Source: IISS, The Military Balance (various). while the contribution of agriculture to national GDP dropped from 26% to 20% (CBSL various). This extent of decline Given that public sector employment has shrunk as a result in the agricultural economy reflected a return to the burgeoning of privatisation, the security sector had by 1997 come to crisis of the peasant sector that was first observed in the 1930s, comprise one in five of Table 1: Military as a Percentage of Total and which the vigorous state-led developmentalist and welfarist all government jobs, with Government Salaries and Wages 3 policies of the 1940s-1980s had partially reversed. the Sri Lankan army 1979-82 1983-86 4 With the global decline in agricultural commodity prices over becoming the country’s 1987-90 14 the 1980s and 1990s, peasant agriculture and particularly paddy largest employer. In fiscal 1991-94 32 farming had, according to the cost of cultivation statistics, been terms, the salaries of the 1995-98 39 41 producing negative returns, even on a pure cash basis (Department armed forces by the late- 1999-2001 Source: CBSL Annual Report (various). of Agriculture various years). That is, many farmers, especially 1990s amounted to over paddy farmers, were barely recouping their cash costs of produc- 40% of the government’s total wage-bill (Table 1). tion in terms of seed, fertiliser, insecticide, and hired labour, Despite the burgeoning role of military employment in Sri even without incorporating the imputed value and opportunity Lanka, and the widespread anecdotal evidence of its increasing cost of unpaid family labour. significance in the Sinhalese rural economy there is virtually no The economic growth of the 1980s and 1990s created a significant data published on the extent of military employment, and conseexpansion in private sector employment, particularly in areas such quently very little analytical or policy discussion of its repercusas construction, garment factories, and tourist resorts – and there sions. For example, the Census of Public Sector Employees excludes was a historic reduction in the unemployment rate during the the military altogether from their data; the Quarterly Labour 1990s. But upon further scrutiny, the actual kinds of private sector Force data does not separate out military employment as a cateemployment fall mostly into three distinct categories: (i) over- gory of its own. Data on military employment is however colwhelmingly female employment in garment factories; (ii) the ex- lected in several standardised, household survey data sets, and the pansion of informal sector employment, particularly in small, following section makes use of one such large, nationally representservice-sector enterprises that employed casual labour, i e, the ative household survey data set to outline some demographic and lowest paid, lowest status, most manually demanding jobs with the social characteristics of military recruits. least security; and (iii) white-collar sales and clerical jobs in the corporate sector – which are typically dominated by people from Sri Lanka Integrated Survey urban, English-speaking, middle and lower middle class origins. The Sri Lanka Integrated Survey (SLIS) is a household survey dataWhat stands out about these categories of private sector employ- set commissioned by the World Bank between October 1999-third ment is that they offer very little for educated rural male Sinhalese quarter of 2000 and executed by the Sri Lanka Business Developyouth; a segment of society that has historically depended on free ment Centre. In all, a total of 7,500 households were surveyed in public education and state employment for social mobility. This is also 500 distinct communities selected across the country, with the the segment of society that has formed the social base of two episodes exception of LTTE-controlled “uncleared areas” in the north-east of armed insurgency against the state in the 1970s and 1980s. – largely in the districts of Killinochi, Mullaitivu, Mannar and
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Vavuniya. There is some potential for the results extracted below to be biased due to these omissions, but this is in reality not entirely relevant because these are overwhelmingly Tamil areas, and this paper is largely interested in employment patterns and alternatives among young Sinhalese. The SLIS data (Table 2) demonstrates that the structure of employment varies significantly by age, ethnicity, region and education. Indeed, the data reveals rather unsurprisingly that military employment is concentrated amongst young SinhalaBuddhist males aged 18-30. Furthermore, it is very disproportionately drawn from the overwhelmingly rural areas of the outer Sinhalese periphery distant from the capital Colombo. That is, military employment is heaviest in areas such as Polonnaruwa, Anuradhapura, Kurunegala, Trincomalee and Ampara. In terms of educational background, military employment is concentrated heavily on those who have completed secondary school, with 10-11 years of education, a category that accounts for almost half the total 18-25 age group.
6%. The real alternatives to a life in the army are in casual labour, or for those living nearer the urban areas, private salaried jobs. Thus, within the multiple dimensions of segmentation in Sri Lanka’s labour market, the military has come to dominate employment in a particular demographic category defined by age (18-30), gender (male), ethnicity (Sinhalese), region (the rural periphery) and education (secondary school) (Figure 3). For this segment of the population (taking the districts of Ampara, Trincomalee, Polonnaruwa, Anuradhapura, and Moneragala), military employment is a necessity due on the one hand to the “push factor” from shrinking agricultural livelihoods, and on the other to the absence of civilian alternatives in the private or public sector. Some 31% of the young men this demographic category are unemployed, a figure that would rise to almost 43% if not for the abundant presence of military employment due to the war. Figure 3: Sources of Cash Employment for Sinhala Buddhist Men, 18-30 with 10-11 Years of Education (Ampara, Trincomalee, Polonnaruwa, Anuradhapura and Moneragala, 114 obs)
Table 2: Ethnic Composition of Occupational Categories for Males 18-30
Public (%)
Military (%)
Sinhalese
63.2
SL Tamil
20.3 0.5
0.0
2.8
15.6
1.4
12.4
Ind Tamil Muslim
Priv Sal (%)
Casual (%)
Business (%)
Farming Total Count* (%) Employed (%)
97.1
61.2
60.5
63.9
75.5
65.5
1,796
1.4
23.0
25.6
13.0
21.3
21.6
593
3.0
1.4
1.6
2.2
59
10.1
18.5
2.1
9.9
270
Others
0.5
0.0
0.7
0.8
3.2
0.0
0.9
26
Total
100
100
100
100
100
100
100
2,744
Count*
212
210
575 1,020
216
440
2,744
Source: SLIS 1999-2000.
The data suggests that military recruitment is also higher in the more predominantly agricultural districts, as there is a close correlation between districts with a high degree of military employment among the male, 18-30 age group, and those where the older male generation aged 45-65 include a high proportion of farmers. On a national basis, the military only accounted for around 3% of all employment, but this figure increases substantially for younger Sinhala-Buddhist males. For this group, military employment varied from a low of 7% of employment in the western province (even here it was concentrated in the more rural Gampaha district and was negligible in urban Colombo) to a high of 23% in the eastern province, where most of the Sinhalese population are second or third generation settlers in irrigation-based colonies such as Gal Oya (Ampara) or Kantale (Trincomalee). In terms of education, military employment is concentrated among those that have completed secondary school, but have no further education – a large category that comprises almost 50% of the total 18-25 age group. Among young Sinhalese males of this group, which has high rates of unemployment, the military accounts for 17% of all employment, compared to only 5% in the civilian public sector. Indeed, the contrast between employment in the military versus the civilian public sector is very stark for this demographic subcategory. In absolute terms, civilian public sector jobs far outnumber the military: there were by the late 1990s, about 9,00,000 civilians in the public sector, and about 2,50,000 in the security forces. But the data suggests that there is a very strong age barrier to civilian public sector jobs; for the 18-25 age group, the extent of civilian public service employment is quite negligible at between 4% and Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
Civilian 14%
Casual 23%
Private 10%
Military 53%
Source: SLIS 1999-2000.
The only alternative to unemployment, or the armed forces is the life of a casual labourer, a fate which most would seek to avoid to the extent possible, as it almost certainly implies a life of continued poverty. As Alex Argenti-Pillen describes in her research among families of Sinhalese soldiers, “Most young soldiers in the national armed forces come from extremely poor backgrounds. Their parents and siblings survive by means of casual labour in the tea plantations or rice paddies” (Argenti-Pillen 2003: 2). Indeed, salary levels for military employment9 are a magnitude of more than double what casual labourers would get, and almost double what salaried private sector jobs pay. The only category of employment with earnings that approximate the military are civilian government jobs – which account for a very small fraction of the available employment for this group. It is also important to bear in mind that private sector employment is concentrated in urban areas and the south-west, but it is quite absent in the rural periphery. Finally, and as a corollary to this, the data shows that overall household incomes for military families (which of course includes
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all other sources of income) are significantly higher than those of non-military families (Table 3). This is corroborated by qualitative studies which suggest that families with military personnel are drawn from very impoverished backgrounds, and that military employment has enabled Table 3: Average Salaries for Sinhalese Males, 18-26 (SL Rupees/month) these households to lift Public Military Private Casual themselves out of poverty. Mean 4,656 6,761 4,275 2,998 For example, one study Median 4,000 6,550 3,800 2,750 describes how “a soldier Count 38 118 183 313 in the family can bring Source: SLIS 1999-2000. recognition, power and economic security to people who have no social status”: ‘Poor’ is how they generally describe their condition prior to their enlistment in the army. Most have not possessed a permanent shelter prior to joining the military, but have lived in mud houses with cadjan or tin roofs (Liyanage 2004: 28).
Indeed, 72% of the military households surveyed in this study had experienced a substantial improvement in their living standards, having either built or bought permanent houses. Unlike others in the village, military households had television sets, refrigerators, proper furnishings, access to clean water and electricity, and ate better food. One young farmer described the mobility effects of the military very clearly: Small scale agriculture is an income source which hardly allows us to manage with the bare necessities. This source of income can never foster a significant change in living patterns, or assist us to achieve our long-term objectives. … Significantly, families which have members enlisted in the military have achieved very prominent economic development (Liyanage 2004: 29).
These findings resonate closely with those of other qualitative surveys, such as Michele Gamburd’s study of military employment in Naeaegama in the south-western coastal strip, and the Asian Development Bank “Voices of the Poor” report (ADB 2001) from Moneragala and Hambantota – both of which find that the main reason cited for joining the army were the lack of other job opportunities and poverty (Gamburd 2004).
Conclusions
to occupy an important position in the economy of the Sinhalese village. With 2,50,000 formal sector jobs, the security forces were the country’s single largest employer. More importantly, they were the single most important source of employment among poor rural Sinhala-Buddhist youth, a group that has historically been at the centre of radical political activity. By signing up a sizeable proportion of this group at the age of 18-20, for a 12-year contract in what they perceive as a dangerous, yet lucrative job the military has also played a unique and largely unrecognised role in redirecting this traditional social constituency of rebellion and political unrest in the direction of a more rigidly hierarchical and conservative form of socialisation. As discussed earlier, the instrumentality and functional benefits of military employment for the market reform agenda does not equate to a conscious conspiracy designed by self-interested political or economic elites. As James Ferguson (1990: 17) describes: Whatever interests may be at work, and whatever they may think they are doing, they can only operate through a complex set of social and cultural structures so deeply embedded and so ill-perceived that the outcome may only be a baroque and unrecognisable transformation of the original intention.
In discussing the possible reasons why military expenditure might benefit economic growth, Emile Benoit (1978) speculated that militarisation had important positive spillover effects: Military training may be peculiarly effective in promoting certain modernising attitudes and ways of life: in part because it has available the instruments of compulsion; in part because the value which justifies its activity national security-exercises a strong influence on most individual consciences and appears to justify imposing difficult and often painful adjustments on the individual. This process is facilitated by the fact that the military conscript is isolated from his family and community and living in an artificial community where he is under continuous government control.
Indeed, I would argue that the “painful adjustment” he refers to describes not just to the transformation of the individual military recruit, but is an apt metaphor for what is happening to Sri Lankan society and the economy as a whole, which is undergoing an equally painful adjustment to the market under the shadow of civil war (De Mel 2007). Military recruitment, which escalated significantly in the 1990s, helped to cushion the impact of the market reform programme, in much the same way that the massive aid-funded rural development schemes did in the early 1980s; that is, by a
The statistical data on employment demonstrate the extent to which military employment had by the late-1990s come to occupy a very particular niche in Sri Lanka’s labour market in terms of education, ethnicity and regional background. The re1,600,000 sults in themselves are not entirely remarkable, for Figure 4: Civilian and Military Components of Public Sector Employment (1982-2002) they are in conformity with and corroborate widely 14,00,000 1,400,000 Security Force Civilian public sector held perceptions and a considerable body of anecdotal evidence on the social characteristics of the 1,200,000 Sri Lankan military forces. They help to substantiate 10,00,000 1,000,000 the argument that the civil war perversely became an 800,000 important source of livelihood diversification, asset accumulation and poverty alleviation for the rural 6,00,000 600,000 Sinhalese population. 400,000 Under circumstances of a secular long-term decline in small-holder farming, increasing rural-urban dis- 2,00,000 200,000 parities, and the diminishing role of civilian state -0 employment as a viable route for upward social mo1982 1984 1986 1988 1990 1992 1994 1996 1998 Source: CBSL, Annual Report (various), and IISS Military Balance (various). bility, military employment had, by the 1990s, come
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2000
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compensatory logic through which the dismantling of the social democratic state, state employment, state patronage on the one hand, particularly through the vigorous privatisation programme of the Premadasa and Kumaratunga years, was balanced, offset, minimised and mitigated, through an expansion of the state, state employment, state patronage on the other. As Figure 4 (p 74) shows, the steady growth in the numbers of the security forces over 1982-2002 has substantially compensated for the reduction in civilian public sector employment over these years. There are, of course, important limitations to this analysis, as noted earlier. The absence, and indeed, the impossibility of Notes 1 This is discussed in greater detail in Venugopal (2010). 2 See for example Herbst (1993), Nelson (1990), Haggard and Kaufman (1992), Przeworski (1991). 3 See Gunasinghe (1984), Moore (1990), Dunham and Jayasuriya (2000). 4 Bayly (1988), Washbrook (1988), Stein (1985), Peers (2007). 5 See Benoit (1973, 1978). Benoit’s work can be contextualised within a body of contemporary work by modernisation theorists such as Lucian Pye, who argued that third world militaries were modernising institutions who preserved social and political stability. See for example, Pye (1962). 6 See for example Hettige (2000). 7 This pattern of a historic reduction in inequality during the post-war years, followed by a sudden increase in inequality from 1980 corresponds with similar findings over long-term inequality data in the US, UK, Canada and India. In particular, see the work of Ed Wolff on historical measures of inequality for the US, and Thomas Piketty who examines the income shares of the top 1% or 0.1%. 8 The data on poverty is of course very pliable and inferences must be taken with some degree of caution. 9 The salary levels presented here are averages, and do not normalise for differences in the composition of educational qualification or rural/urban differentials.
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obtaining and testing valid counterfactuals to this proposition means that the functional relationship between war and market reforms outlined here remains tentative. Yet I assert that it bears scrutiny, and has explanatory power. For example, the idea of calibrating an analysis of the conflict against the politics of market reform can be fruitful in explaining the failure of the 2002 peace process (Venugopal 2009). Similarly, there are important grounds to cast doubt on the idea that the parallel processes of development/destruction, war/reform are not distinct spheres of analysis and policy formulation, but are in reality closely linked.
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NOTES
Market Concentration in Indian Manufacturing Sector: Measurement Issues Pulak Mishra, Divesh Mohit, Parimal
The article attempts to examine the accuracy of the conventional additive measures of market concentration by using the criteria as suggested by Ginevicius and Cirba. It is found that the GRS Index of Ginevicius and Cirba is a more accurate measure of market concentration. The HerfindahlHirschman Index, the most widely used measure of market concentration, deviates far from accuracy. Hence, examining market concentration on the basis of the conventional indices may result in misleading conclusions and hence guide policy formulations in wrong directions.
The authors are thankful to Rakesh Basant and Bhagirath Behera for their useful comments and suggestions. Pulak Mishra (
[email protected]) is at the department of humanities and social sciences, Indian Institute of Technology Kharagpur, Kharagpur. Divesh Mohit and Parimal were final year students of MSc (Statistics and Informatics) when this article was written.
76
T
he structure of a market is generally examined in terms of its size, degree of the seller’s concentration and competition from imports. Although the indus trial organisation literature suggests a number of measures, in empirical research the state of competition or the degree of seller’s concentration in a market is generally measured by using market shares of the firms, n-firm concentration ratio (CR n), the Herfindahl-Hirschman Index (HHI), price-cost margin (PCM), profitability, etc. In the Indian context also, past studies largely used these measures to examine the state of market concentration. For example, while Kambhampati (1996) asses sed the structure of the market on the basis of CR n, Ramaswamy (2006), Mishra and Behera (2007), and Mishra (2008) used HHI as the measure of market concentration in the Indian industry sector. On the other hand, Basant and Morris (2000) and Mishra (2005) used n-firm concentration, the HHI and PCM to substantiate the findings. However, Pushpangadan and Shanta (2008) examined the dynamics of competition in terms of the persistence of profit rates. While the conclusions on market concentration are likely to be influenced by the measures used, very little attention is given to examining the accuracy and appropriateness of a particular measure in a given context or for a given industry. This, on many occasions, may result in contradictory findings on market competition. This article is an attempt to fill this gap. In other words, its basic objective is to examine the accuracy of various alternatives measures of market concentration by using the criteria as suggested by Ginevicius and Cirba (2009). Addressing this issue is very important in the present context as the current regime of deregulation aims at
facilitating greater competition in Indian industry for efficient functioning of market forces. On the one hand, removal of entry and licensing barriers are expected to expose the domestic firms to international competition and to compel them to improve their efficiency and productivity by introducing new products, processes and practices. On the other hand, reforms in trade policies are aimed at facilitating these firms import materials, components and technology of better quality, in addition to bringing in import competition in the domestic marketplace. Since the effectiveness of these policy measures are judged in terms of the prevailing and/or changing state of market competition, use of an accurate and appropriate index is very important in measuring the degree of the seller’s concentration in the marketplace.
Alternative Measures of Market Concentration Although there are several measures of market concentration, we consider some of those measures that take into account all the firms in a market. It should be mentioned that although it is very simple to compute and interpret, we do not consider the n-firm concentration ratio as the defining measure of market structure. The n-firm concentration ratio is highly sensitive to the choice of “n”. Further, we define these indices in terms of market shares of the firms. We assume that a measure of market concentration is a function of the combined market share of all the firms in the industry. Herfindahl-Hirschman Index: The HHI of market concentration is defined as the sum of the squares of the relative sizes (expressed as proportions of the total size of the market) of the firms in the market. It is measured by using the formula, n HHI = ∑ s2i i=1 Here, si stands for the market share1 of the ith firm in the industry. The value of the index declines with the increase in the number of firms and increases with the rising inequality among any given number of firms. The maximum value of this index is 1 when only one firm
december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
NOTES
occupies the whole market. It is the most commonly used measure as it is simple and combines both the number and size distribution of firms in the industry, the important requirements of a measure of concentration to be consistent with the theory of oligopoly. Horvath Index: The Horvath (1970) Index of market concentration is defined as, n
market players when compared with the HHI. The Horvath Index is also known as a “comprehensive concentration index” as it accounts for market share of the largest firm in a discrete manner and that of other firms in a weighted form. The value 3n2 – 3n + 1 of the index ranges between n3 2 +1 (for n ≠ 2) and 1, i e, 3n – 3n ≤ HOR ≤ 1 3 n with n being the number of firms in the industry.
HOR = s1 + ∑ s i2 (2(2 −– ssii )
Entropy Index: The Entropy Index is defined as, n 1 ENT = ∑ si ln si i=1 The Entropy Index generally Table 1: Criteria Used for Decision on Level of Market Concentration Criteria Decision measures the degree of uncerCj < C – 2σc Low market concentration in industry j for HHI, tainty faced by a firm in the HOR, GIN and GRS marketplace. In case of mono High market concentration in industry j for ENT poly there is no uncertainty in C– 2σc ≤ Cj ≤ C + 2σc Moderate market concentration in industry j Cj > C + 2σc High market concentration in industry j for HHI, the market and the index takes the value zero. On the other HOR, GIN and GRS Low market concentration in industry j for ENT hand, when there are “n” C– σc ≤ Cj ≤ C + σc Indecision on market concentration in industry j number of firms and all of i=2
Here, s1 represents market share of the largest firm in the industry. The Horvath Index assigns larger weights to all the
()
them are equal in size, there are uncertainties in the market and the index takes the value ln(n). Ginevicius Index: The Ginevicius Index is given by the formula n GIN = ∑
(
i=1
si 1 + n(1 – si)
)
This index is intended to assess two basic market indicators, the number of firms in the industry and their market share in a balanced way. It is based on the assumption that larger the number of suppliers, greater is the competition hence higher is the uncertainty in the market. The degree of this uncertainty depends on market shares of the firms when there is monopoly GIN = 1. On the other hand, as n → ∞, GIN → 0. In other words, as the number of firms in the industry increases, the degree of seller’s concentration in the market declines. Hence, 0 ≤ GIN ≤ 1
Table 2: Level of Market Concentration in Major Industries of Indian Manufacturing Sector across Various Measures Period
Level of Concentration HHI
HOR
1992-94
High
Polymers
Polymers
Measure of Market Concentration ENT
Moderate Beverages and tobacco; Beverages and tobacco; cosmetics, toiletries, soaps cosmetics, toiletries, soaps and detergents; paints and and detergents; cotton textiles; varnishes; petroleum products drugs and pharmaceuticals; electrical machinery; food products; paints and varnishes; petroleum products; plastic products 1999-2001 High Cosmetics, toiletries, soaps and detergents; polymers
Nil
GIN
GRS
Alkalis
Polymers
Automobile ancilliaries; Electricity; food cosmetics, toiletries, soaps products; paints and detergents; cotton and varnishes; textiles; drugs and pharmaceuticals; electrical machinery; electricity; food products; paints and varnishes; petroleum products; polymers
Cosmetics, toiletries, soaps and Nil Alkali detergents; petroleum products; polymers
Moderate Beverages and tobacco; paints Alkali; beverages and tobacco; and varnishes; petroleum cotton textiles; drugs and products pharmaceuticals; electrical machinery; food products; paints and varnishes; plastic products
Alkali; automobile ancilliaries; Petroleum cosmetics, toiletries, soaps products; and detergents; cotton textiles; polymers; tyres drugs and pharmaceuticals; and tubes electrical machinery; misc manufacturing; paints and varnishes; petroleum products; polymers; tyres and tubes
Food products
Low
2006-08 High
Nil
Nil
Beverages and tobacco; polymers
Nil Nil
Moderate Alkali; cosmetics, toiletries, Alkali; automobile ancilliaries; soaps and detergents; cotton beverages and tobacco; textiles; paints and varnishes; cosmetics, toiletries, soaps petroleum products; tyres and detergents; cotton textiles; and tubes drugs and pharmaceuticals; electricity; food products; misc manufacturing; non-ferrous metals; petroleum products; polymers; tyres and tubes
Beverages and tobacco; cosmetics, toiletries, soaps and detergents; cotton textiles; diversified; paints and varnishes; petroleum products; plastic products
Cosmetics, toiletries, soaps and detergents; polymers Beverages and tobacco; food products; petroleum products
Nil
Nil
Alkali; other textiles
Beverages and tobacco; polymers
Alkali; automobile ancilliaries; Polymers; tyres beverages and tobacco; and tubes cosmetics, toiletries, soaps and detergents; cotton textiles; drugs and pharmaceuticals; ferrous metals; food products; misc manufacturing; non-ferrous metals; paints and varnishes; petroleum products; plastic products; polymers; tyres and tubes
Alkali; cosmetics, toiletries, soaps and detergents; cotton textiles; diversified; non-ferrous metals; paints and varnishes; petroleum products
HHI: Herfindahl-Hirschman Index; HOR: Horvath Index; ENT: Entropy Index; GIN: Ginevicius Index Source: Prowess, CMIE. Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
77
NOTES Table 3: Ranking of Industries by Market Concentration across Various Measures (1989-2008) Industry
Alkali
HHI
easure of Market Concentration M HOR ENT GIN
GRS
CV of Ranking
7
1
34
26
34
0.76
14
10
9
23
27
0.48
Automobile ancillaries
27
33
29
7
7
0.61
Beverages and tobacco
29
14
5
32
12
0.63
Cosmetics and toiletries*
23
8
3
33
31
0.69
Cotton textiles
28
30
28
3
3
0.77
4
16
33
1
9
1.01
22
29
31
4
4
0.73 0.33
Automobile
Diversified Drugs and pharmaceuticals Dyes and pigments
8
11
19
16
18
Electrical machinery
24
27
24
6
1
0.73
Electricity
12
3
2
28
30
0.89
Electronics
25
22
12
17
11
0.35
Ferrous metals
33
25
6
27
15
0.50
3
12
30
11
14
0.71
30
34
32
2
2
0.82
Fertilisers Food products Information technology
11
6
4
30
32
0.81
Inorganic chemicals
16
18
23
13
17
0.21
Misc manufacturing
26
31
22
8
6
0.60
Non-electrical machinery
34
32
10
24
13
0.48
2
9
11
20
19
0.61
31
26
18
10
8
0.53
Non-ferrous metals Non-metallic mineral products Organic chemicals
18
19
17
15
16
0.09
Other chemicals
20
21
14
21
22
0.16
Other textiles
32
28
15
22
20
0.29
Paints and varnishes
6
5
8
29
29
0.81
Pesticides
9
13
20
18
24
0.35
Petroleum products
5
2
7
31
28
0.94
Plastic products
21
24
25
5
5
0.63
Polymers
15
4
1
34
33
0.90
Readymade garments
10
17
26
12
23
0.39
Rubber and rubber products
19
15
13
25
26
0.30
Synthetic textiles
13
23
27
9
10
0.49
Textile processing
17
20
21
14
21
0.16
1
7
16
19
25
0.70
Tyres and tubes *Includes soaps and detergents Source: Prowess, CMIE.
A More Accurate Measure of Market Concentration: GRS Index A critical review of various measures of concentration discussed above suggests that the HHI assigns greater weight to the larger firms and a lower one to the smaller firms. This not only raises the importance of the larger firms in the index, it also reduces the effects of the smaller firms even if they are very large in number, giving a distorted measure of market concentration. Such a measure also limits the scope for understanding the role of the smaller firms in market competition. The Entropy Index differs widely from the HHI in terms of the weights that are assigned to the firms. It uses the logarithm of the market share rather than its value as the weight. As a result, the importance of the larger firms decreases, while that of the smaller
78
ones relatively increases. As compared to the HHI, the Horvath Index, on the other hand, assigns larger weights to all the firms in the industry. Besides, the division of the measure into discrete and additive parts as well as the weights assigned to the firms are arbitrary. Although the Ginevicius Index emphasises both the number of firms in the industry and their market share, it fails to represent the true scenario of market concentration, particularly when the distribution of market share is highly skewed towards a few firms. Thus, the weights assigned across the measures of market concentration are neither consistent nor theoretically justified. Hence, these measures are likely to provide a distorted state of market competition and the extent of distortions depend on the nature of the industry and the distribution
of market shares of the firms therein. The GRS Index suggested by Ginevicius and Cirba (2009) is an attempt to overcome the weighting problem and thereby to provide a more accurate measure of market concentration. In this index, the weights to different firms are assigned in such a way that (i) the value of the index ranges from 0 to 1, i e, 0 ≤ GRS ≤ 1, (ii) if all firms in the industry have equal market share, 1 i e, if si = n , GRS = 1 , and (iii) it gives a n more accurate measure of market concentration. Accordingly, the index is defined as,
(
)
n n2s + 0.3s2 1 i GRS = ∑ si i=1 n2 + 0.3ns s 1 i
Here, s1 stands for market share of the largest firm in the industry. The GRS Index is based on Taylor’s series.2 The GRS Index satisfies all the three conditions mentioned above.
Market Concentration in Manufacturing This section of the article attempts to examine market concentration for 34 major industry groups of the Indian manufacturing sector. Market concentration is measured for each of the five indices discussed above to see if the findings are consistent across the measures. We use values of total sales of goods as a measure of size of a firm. Decision on the level of market concentration3 in a particularly industry is made by applying the criteria as mentioned in Table 1 (p 77). The necessary data are collected from the Prowess database of the Centre for Monitoring Indian Economy (CMIE), Mumbai. Table 2 (p 77) presents the level of market concentration in the major industries of the sector during three time periods, viz, 1992 to 1994, 1999 to 2001 and 2006 to 2008 across different measures. We use the average value of each of the concentration measures in each period to examine the level of market concentration. It is observed that in each period, the level of market concentration in different industries is not consistent across the measures. For example, according to the HHI, Horvath Index and the GRS Index, polymers was a highly concentrated industry during 1992 to 1994, but it is alkalis that was highly concentrated during the same period as per the Ginevicius Index. Interestingly,
december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
NOTES Table 4: Change in Market Concentration in Major Industries by Measures of Concentration (1993-2008) Industry
1993-2000
HHI 2001-08
C
1993-2000
HOR 2001-08
C
1993-2000
ENT 2001-08
Alkali
0.14
0.18
+
0.38
0.46
+
0.97
0.88
Automobile
0.13
0.11
-
0.36
0.33
-
1.13
Automobile ancillaries
0.03
0.02
-
0.15
0.10
-
Beverages and tobacco
0.23
0.24
+
0.49
0.51
Cosmetics and toiletries*
0.36
0.29
-
0.62
0.55
Cotton textiles
0.02
0.02
N
0.08
Diversified
0.05
0.06
+
Drugs and pharmaceuticals
0.02
0.02
N
Dyes and pigments
0.07
0.08
+
Electrical machinery
0.02
0.03
+
Electricity
0.19
0.07
Electronics
0.05
0.06
Ferrous metals
0.10
0.06
-
0.32
Fertilisers
0.06
0.08
+
0.22
C
1993-2000
GIN 2001-08
C
GRS 1993-2000 2001-08
+
0.080
0.095
+
0.23
0.31
1.16
-
0.024
0.022
-
0.24
0.22
-
1.89
2.05
-
0.006
0.004
-
0.12
0.08
-
+
1.05
1.06
-
0.020
0.020
N
0.45
0.47
+
-
0.79
0.91
-
0.040
0.030
-
0.58
0.50
-
0.08
N
2.10
2.07
+
0.004
0.003
-
0.06
0.06
N
0.18
0.20
+
1.44
1.33
+
0.025
0.026
+
0.04
0.04
N
0.10
0.12
+
1.95
1.91
+
0.004
0.004
N
0.07
0.08
+
0.23
0.26
+
1.31
1.28
+
0.024
0.024
N
0.13
0.16
+
0.11
0.14
+
1.88
1.82
+
0.005
0.005
N
0.08
0.09
+
-
0.19
0.07
-
0.97
1.42
-
0.046
0.014
-
0.33
0.19
-
+
0.18
0.23
+
1.64
1.54
0.006
0.005
-
0.11
0.14
+
0.24
-
1.68
1.81
-
0.003
0.002
-
0.29
0.20
-
0.28
+
1.30
1.22
+
0.022
0.024
+
0.12
0.20
+ +
C
+
Food products
0.01
0.01
N
0.08
0.08
N
2.25
2.25
N
0.002
0.002
N
0.06
0.07
Information technology
0.09
0.07
-
0.29
0.24
-
1.42
1.61
-
0.013
0.003
-
0.23
0.16
-
Inorganic chemicals
0.06
0.06
N
0.23
0.21
-
1.40
1.42
-
0.021
0.019
-
0.16
0.14
-
Misc manufacturing
0.03
0.02
-
0.14
0.10
-
1.90
2.00
-
0.004
0.003
-
0.11
0.08
-
Non-electrical machinery
0.06
0.07
+
0.25
0.26
+
1.69
1.68
+
0.005
0.004
-
0.22
0.23
+
Non-ferrous metals
0.09
0.15
+
0.28
0.41
+
1.23
1.06
+
0.017
0.017
N
0.16
0.28
+
Non-metallic mineral products
0.04
0.03
-
0.17
0.15
-
1.77
1.79
-
0.004
0.004
N
0.12
0.11
-
Organic chemicals
0.06
0.05
-
0.21
0.20
-
1.51
1.48
+
0.012
0.013
+
0.14
0.13
-
Other chemicals
0.09
0.06
-
0.30
0.20
-
1.34
1.47
-
0.016
0.013
-
0.24
0.13
-
Other textiles
0.07
0.04
-
0.27
0.19
-
1.54
1.69
-
0.010
0.008
-
0.23
0.15
-
Paints and varnishes
0.20
0.23
+
0.49
0.53
+
0.86
0.80
+
0.057
0.058
+
0.33
0.38
+ -
Pesticides
0.11
0.06
-
0.33
0.22
-
1.20
1.37
-
0.026
0.022
-
0.24
0.14
Petroleum products
0.30
0.23
-
0.60
0.54
-
0.69
0.76
-
0.045
0.037
-
0.48
0.39
-
Plastic products
0.02
0.03
+
0.10
0.11
+
1.88
1.87
+
0.006
0.005
-
0.07
0.07
N
Polymers
0.39
0.29
-
0.65
0.58
-
0.71
0.81
-
0.063
0.042
-
0.61
0.49
-
Readymade garments
0.05
0.05
N
0.18
0.20
+
1.43
1.50
-
0.023
0.013
-
0.11
0.14
+
Rubber and rubber products
0.11
0.07
-
0.34
0.23
-
1.22
1.40
-
0.025
0.018
-
0.25
0.15
-
Synthetic textiles
0.03
0.05
+
0.14
0.20
+
1.63
1.53
+
0.012
0.013
+
0.09
0.14
+
Textile processing
0.04
0.05
+
0.17
0.20
+
1.61
1.49
+
0.013
0.015
+
0.12
0.13
+
Tyres and tubes
0.13
0.16
+
0.37
0.43
+
1.01
0.94
+
0.047
0.045
-
0.22
0.26
+
*Includes soaps and detergents; C stands for change, + for increase, - for decline, and N for no change. Source: Prowess, CMIE.
according to the Entropy Index, none of the industries was highly concentrated during this period. Similarly, when the HHI was used, market concentration was observed to be moderate in beverages in tobacco, cosmetics and toile tries including soaps and detergents, paints and varnishes, and petroleum products during 1992-94. But, in case of the Horvath Index and the Entropy Index, the level of concentration was moderate also in industries like cotton textiles, drugs and pharmaceuticals, electrical machinery and food products during this period. Such inconsistencies across the measures were observed during 1999-2001 and 2006-08 as well. Interestingly, according to the Ginevicius Index, market concentration was moderate only in a very few industries during the entire period under consideration, while in case of other measures it was moderate in many of the industries considered.
Further, only in the case of the Entropy Index was market concentration low during 1999-2001. Ranking of the major industries of the sector by average market concentration during 1989 to 2008 is presented in Table 3 (p 78). It is observed that the ranking of the industries in terms of market concentration varies considerably across various measures. For example, according to the Horvath Index, alkalis appears to be the most concentrated industry, but the level of concentration in the industry is very low as per the Ginevicius Index and the GRS Index and the least when the Entropy Index is considered. On the other hand, in tyres and tubes market concentration is the highest according to the HHI and very high if we go by the Horvath Index. But, market concentration in the industry is quite low when we consider the other indices. Similarly, in paints and varnishes,
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
and petroleum products, the level of market concentration is very high if we go by the HHI or the Horvath Index or the Entropy Index, whereas it is very low when the Ginevicius Index or the GRS Index is used. Such wide variation in ranking across the measures is reflected in a high coefficient of variation of ranks by measures in many of the industries like alkalis, automobile ancillaries, cotton textiles, cosmetic and toiletries including soaps and detergents, drugs and pharmaceuticals, electrical machinery, electricity, food products, fertilisers, information technology, polymers, petroleum products, paints and varnishes, plastic products, and diversified manufacturing (Table 3). Only in organic chemicals, inorganic chemicals, other chemicals, rubber and rubber products, and dyes and pigments the ranking, to some extent, appears to be consistent across
79
NOTES
share as per the formula of the concentration measure. A conGRS centration measure is the most 3 1 accurate when R = 0 and hence 2 1 it ideally reflects the market 2 1 2 1 situation. However, since in all 2 1 the cases the difference between 2 1 the relative value of market 1 2 concentration and their value 2 1 according to the formula of the 2 1 concentration measure are dif2 1 ferent, R is likely to be greater 2 1 than zero. Hence, in the present 2 1 context, we are interested for 2 1 2 1 a more accurate measure of 2 1 market concentration, and not 2 1 the most accurate one. We as2 1 sume that the smaller the total 2 1 difference between the relative 2 1 value in the market and their 2 1 relative value in formula, the 2 1 more accurate is the measure 2 1 of market concentration. 2 1 2 1 From Table 5 it appears that 2 1 the GRS is the most accurate 2 1 measure of market concentra2 1 tion followed by the Ginevicius 2 1 Index. In case of all the indus2 1 tries except information techno 2 1 logy and polymers, the Herfin2 1 dahl-Hirschman ranks fourth 2 1 out of the five indices consid2 1 2 1 ered as far as the accuracy of the measure is concerned. This means that HHI is not a very accurate measure of market concentration and, therefore, assessing the state of market competition solely on the basis of this index, as it widely done in empirical research, may be misleading resulting in wrong policy directions. As it is observed in Table 5, the GRS Index, the Ginevicius Index and the Entropy Index provide better measure of market concentration as compared to the HHI.
Table 5: Ranking of Measures by Accuracy across Industries (1989-2008) Industry
HHI
easure of Concentration M HOR ENT GIN
Alkali
4
5
2
Automobile
4
5
3
Automobile ancillaries
4
5
3
Beverages and tobacco
4
5
3
Cosmetics and toiletries*
4
5
3
Cotton textiles
4
5
3
Diversified
4
5
3
Drugs and pharmaceuticals
4
5
3
Dyes and pigments
4
5
3
Electrical machinery
4
5
3
Electricity
4
5
3
Electronics
4
5
3
Ferrous metals
4
5
3
Fertilisers
4
5
3
Food products
4
5
3
Information technology
3
5
4
Inorganic chemicals
4
5
3
Misc manufacturing
4
5
3
Non-electrical machinery
4
5
3
Non-ferrous metals
4
5
3
Non-metallic mineral products
4
5
3
Organic chemicals
4
5
3
Other chemicals
4
5
3
Other textiles
4
5
3
Paints and varnishes
4
5
3
Pesticides
4
5
3
Petroleum products
4
5
3
Plastic products
4
5
3
Polymers
3
4
5
Readymade garments
4
5
3
Rubber and rubber products
4
5
3
Synthetic textiles
4
5
3
Textile processing
4
5
3
Tyres and tubes
4
5
3
* Includes soaps and detergents.
measures. Such wide variations in decisions on market concentration across the measures create the necessity of examining their accuracy and the next section is an attempt in this direction. Further, for many of the industries the nature of change in market concentration is also different across the measures (Table 4, p 79).
Accuracy of Measures In order to examine the accuracy of the measures of market concentration we use the criterion as suggested by Ginevicius and Cirba (2009). In this criterion, both actual and calculated market share are used. According to this criterion, n R = ∑ |si – s*i| i=1 Here, R stands for accuracy of a concentration measure, s for calculated market share, and s* for the relative value of market
80
Conclusions Hence, although the HHI is widely used in empirical research to measure market concentration, from the discussion here we can say that it is not a very accurate measure of market concentration, particularly, in comparison with the alternative measures like the Entropy Index, the Ginevicius Index or the GRS Index. Hence, examining market concentration on the basis of
the HHI can result in misleading conclusions and hence formulation of policies in wrong directions. This is very important particularly when the level of market concentration is compared across various industries and industry-specific competition policies are formulated accordingly. As the smaller difference between the relative value of market share and its relative value calculated by the formula of an additive measure gives a more accurate measure of market concentration, the GRS Index may be used for this purpose. How ever, any definite conclusion in this regard requires further research on the issue. Notes 1 Although the market share of a firm may be defined in terms of production or sales or employment, we have defined as the ratio of the firm’s sales to total industry sales. 2 For the details on derivation of this index see Ginevicius and Cirba (2009). 3 Here, market concentration is levelled as high, medium and low in relative sense, i e, in com parison with other industries in the sector to examine the ambiguities in inter-industry comparison of it.
References Basant, R and S Morris (2000): Competition Policy in India: Issues for a Globalising Economy, project report submitted to the Ministry of Industry, Government of India, New Delhi. Ginevicius, R and S Cirba (2009): “Additive Measurement of Market Concentration”, Journal of Business Economics and Management, 10(3), 191-98. Horvath, J (1970): “Suggestion for a Comprehensive Measure of Concentration”, Southern Economic Journal, 36, 446-52. Kambhampati, U S (1996): Industrial Concentration and Performance: A Study of the Structure, Conduct and Performance of Indian Industry (New Delhi: Oxford University Press). Mishra, P (2005): “Mergers and Acquisitions in the Indian Corporate Sector in the Post-Liberalisation Era: An Analysis”, unpublished doctoral thesis, Vidyasagar University, West Bengal. – (2008): “Concentration-Markup Relationship in Indian Manufacturing Sector”, Economic & Political Weekly, 43(39), 76-81. Mishra, P and B Behera (2007): “Instabilities in Market Concentration: An Empirical Investigation in Indian Manufacturing Sector”, Journal of Indian School of Political Economy, 19(3), 419-49. Pushpangadan, K and N Shanta (2008): “Competition and Profitability in Indian Manufacturing Sector”, Indian Economic Review, 43(1), 103-23. Ramaswamy, K V (2006): “State of Competition in Indian Manufacturing Industry” in P S Mehta (ed.), A Functional Competition Policy for India (New Delhi: Academic Foundation).
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december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
CURRENT STATISTICS
EPW Research Foundation
The United Nations Development Programme’s Human Development Index for 2011 ranks India at 134 out of 187 countries. With the index improving from 0.461 in 2000 to 0.547 in 2011, India has moved up from the stage of low to medium human development. India’s index was significantly lower than that of China (0.687) and Sri Lanka (0.691), but a shade better than that of Pakistan (0.504) and Bangladesh (0.500). India fared worse than all these countries in the Gender Inequality Index. The maternal mortality rate at 230 per lakh of population was one of the highest.
Macroeconomic Indicators Variation (in %): Point-to-Point Index Numbers of Wholesale Prices Weights 5 November Over Over 12 Months Fiscal Year So Far Full Financial Year (Base Year: 2004-05 = 100)^ 2011 Month 2011 2010 2011-12 2010-11 2010-11 2009-10 2008-09 2007-08 Primary Articles 20.1 203.0 -0.4 10.4 15.4 7.7 10.4 13.1 22.4 5.3 9.1 Food Articles 14.3 199.8 -0.2 10.6 11.4 11.6 9.9 8.9 21.1 7.5 5.8 Non-Food Articles 4.3 175.9 -2.2 5.3 24.2 -8.2 10.9 27.3 19.6 1.8 13.3 Fuel & Power 14.9 171.5 0.8 15.5 10.6 8.6 6.0 12.7 13.8 -4.9 9.2 Manufactured Products* 65.0 139.1 0.4 7.7 5.1 2.6 2.4 7.4 5.3 1.7 7.2 Food Products* 10.0 152.0 0.2 7.8 3.8 4.8 -0.5 2.4 15.1 6.3 8.4 Food Index (computed)* 24.3 180.8 1.5 9.9 10.6 9.5 6.4 6.8 18.5 7.3 6.7 All Commodities (point to point basis)* 100.0 156.8 0.6 9.7 9.1 4.9 4.8 9.7 10.4 1.6 7.8 All Commodities (Monthly average basis)* 100.0 154.2 - 9.5 9.1 9.6 9.8 9.6 3.8 8.1 4.9 * Data pertain to the month of October 2011 as weekly release of data discontinued wef 24 Oct 2009. ^The date of first release of data based on 2004-05 series wef 14 September 2010. Variation (in %): Point-to-Point Cost of Living Indices Latest Over Over 12 Months Fiscal Year So Far Full Fiscal Year Month 2011 Month 2011 2010 2011-12 2010-11 2010-11 2009-10 2008-09 2007-08 2006-07 9 Industrial Workers (IW) (2001=100) 197 1.5 10.1 9.8 6.5 5.3 8.8 14.9 8.0 7.9 6.7 10 Agricultural Labourers (AL) (1986-87=100) 619 0.7 9.4 8.4 5.8 5.6 9.1 15.8 9.5 7.9 9.5
2006-07 12.9 12.7 13.4 0.9 6.5 4.3 9.6 6.8 6.5
2005-06 5.3 5.3
Note: Superscript numeral denotes month to which figure relates, e g, superscript 9 stands for September and 10 stands for October. Variation Money and Banking (Rs crore) 4 November Over Month Over Year Fiscal Year So Far Full Fiscal Year 2011 2011 2011-12 2010-11 2010-11 2009-10 2008-09 Money Supply (M3) 7010561 47739(0.7) 970085(16.1) 511013(7.9) 437744(7.8) 896817 (16.0) 807920 (16.8) 776930 (19.3) Currency with Public 968051 18819(2.0) 103113(11.9) 53854(5.9) 97445(12.7) 146704 (19.1) 102043 (15.3) 97040 (17.1) Deposits Money with Banks 6041202 29979(0.5) 869945(16.8) 459564(8.2) 339857(7.0) 750239 (15.5) 707606 (17.2) 683375 (19.9) of which: Demand Deposits 644057 -7862(-1.2) -18534(-2.8) -73602(-10.3) -55379(-7.7) -310 (-0.0) 129281 (22.0) 10316 (1.8) Time Deposits 5397145 37841(0.7) 888479(19.7) 533166(11.0) 395236(9.6) 750549 (18.2) 578325 (16.4) 673059 (23.5) Net Bank Credit to Government 2192844 34871(1.6) 356722(19.4) 210073(10.6) 166937(10.0) 313584 (18.8) 391853 (30.7) 377815 (42.0) Bank Credit to Commercial Sector 4476698 30945(0.7) 672318(17.7) 241291(5.7) 312970(9.0) 743997 (21.3) 476516 (15.8) 435904 (16.9) Net Foreign Exchange Assets 1551778 9712(0.6) 188425(13.8) 158451(11.4) 81884(6.4) 111858 (8.7) 367718 (-5.2) 57053 (4.4) Banking Sector’s Net Non-Monetary Liabilities 1224070 27789(2.3) 248539(25.5) 99390(8.8) 124929(14.7) 274078 (32.2) -9050 (-1.1) 94672 (12.4) of which: RBI 530784 11966(2.3) 182733(52.5) 162510(44.1) 46437(15.4) 66660 (22.1) -86316 (-22.3) 177709 (84.5) Reserve Money (11 November 2011) 1431245 46412(3.4) 166883(13.2) 54363(3.9) 108675(9.4) 221195 (19.1) 167688 (17.0) 59696 (6.4) Net RBI Credit to Centre 436417 51581(-) 146756(-) 42382(-) 78080(-) 182453 149821 176397 Scheduled Commercial Banks (4 November 2011) Aggregate Deposits 5654106 29174(0.5) 841320(17.5) 446137(8.6) 319960(7.1) 715143 (15.9) 658716 (17.2) 637170 (19.9) Demand 564735 -7944(-1.4) -25820(-4.4) -76971(-12.0) -55055(-8.5) -3905 (-0.6) 122525 (23.4) -1224 (-0.2) Time 5089371 37118(0.7) 867140(20.5) 523107(11.5) 375015(9.7) 719048 (18.7) 536191 (16.2) 638395 (23.9) Investments (for SLR purposes) 1731638 -3140(-0.2) 243407(16.4) 230019(15.3) 103479(7.5) 116867 (8.4) 218342 (18.7) 194694 (20.0) Bank Credit 4180474 31876(0.8) 650078(18.4) 238392(6.0) 285608(8.8) 697294 (21.5) 469239 (16.9) 413635 (17.5) Non-Food Credit 4103011 17729(0.4) 626363(18.0) 225211(5.8) 280349(8.8) 681500 (21.3) 466961 (17.1) 411825 (17.8) Commercial Investments 170559 1284(0.8) 17468(11.4) 22958(15.6) 35020(29.7) 28872 (24.5) 11654 (11.0) 10911 (11.4) Total Bank Assistance to Comml Sector 4273570 19013(0.4) 643831(17.7) 248169(6.2) 315369(9.5) 710372 (21.4) 478615 (16.9) 422736 (17.5) Note: Government Balances as on 31 March 2011 are after closure of accounts. Index Numbers of Industrial Production September* Fiscal Year So Far Full Fiscal Year Averages (Base 2004-05=100) Weights 2011 2011-12 2010-11 2010-11 2009-10 2008-09 2007-08 2006-07 General Index 100.00 163.2(1.8) 166.0(5.0) 158.1(8.2) 165.4(8.2) 152.9(5.3) 145.2(2.5) 141.7(15.5) 122.6(12.9) Mining and Quarrying 14.157 111.0-(5.7) 122.6-(1.0) 123.8(7.2) 131.0(5.2) 124.5(7.9) 115.4(2.6) 112.5(4.6) 107.6(5.2) Manufacturing 75.527 175.7(2.1) 176.6(5.4) 167.6(8.8) 175.6(8.9) 161.3(4.8) 153.8(2.5) 150.1(18.4) 126.8(15.0) Electricity 10.316 144.1(9.0) 148.2(9.4) 135.5(3.8) 138.0(5.6) 130.8(6.1) 123.3(2.8) 120.0(6.4) 112.8(7.3) * Indices for the month are Quick Estimates Fiscal Year So Far 2010-11 End of Fiscal Year Capital Market 18 Nov 2011 Month Ago Year Ago Trough Peak Trough Peak 2010-11 2009-10 2008-09 BSE Sensitive Index (1978-79=100) 16372(-17.9) 16748 19931(17.2) 15792 19702 16022 21005 19445(10.9) 17528(80.5) 9709(-37.9) BSE-100 (1983-84=100) 8466(-20.0) 8738 10585(18.0) 8283 10262 8540 11141 10096(8.6) 9300(88.2) 4943(-40.0) BSE-200 (1989-90=100) 1982(-21.6) 2053 2528(19.4) 1950 2427 2034 2753 2379(8.1) 2200(92.9) 1140(-41.0) S&P CNX Nifty (3 Nov 1995=1000) 4906(-18.2) 5038 5999(18.7) 4748 5912 4807 6312 5834(11.1) 5249(73.8) 3021(-36.2) Skindia GDR Index (2 Jan 1995=1000) 2208(-30.7) 2360 3184(19.7) 2146 3441 2477 3479 3151(9.3) 2883(134.2) 1153(-56.2) Net FII Investment in (US $ Mn Equities) - period end 102651(1.4) 101936 101258(43.8) – – – – 101454(31.5) 77159(43.1) 51669(-18.6) September* Fiscal Year So Far Full Fiscal Year Foreign Trade 2011 2011-12 2010-11 2010-11 2009-10 2008-09 2007-08 2006-07 2005-06 2004-05 Exports: Rs crore 118234 723432 (49.3) 484687 (23.2) 1118823 (32.3) 845534 (0.6) 840754(28.2) 655863(14.7) 571779(25.3) 456418(21.6) 375340(27.9) US $ mn 24822 160049 (52.1) 105241 (30.0) 245868 (37.5) 178751 (-3.5) 185295 (13.6) 163132(29.0) 126361(22.6) 103091(23.4) 83536(30.8) Imports: Rs crore 164759 1055339 (30.0) 811773 (30.4) 1596869 (17.1) 1363736 (-0.8) 1374434(35.8) 1012312(20.4) 840506(27.3) 660409(31.8) 501065(39.5) US $ mn 34589 233510 (32.4) 176360 (37.6) 350695 (21.6) 288373 (-5.0) 303696(20.7) 251654(35.5) 185749(24.5) 149166(33.8) 111517(42.7) Non-POL US $ mn (* Provisional figures) 25379 163161 (28.5) 126955 (40.0) 249006 (23.7) 201237 (-4.2) 210029(22.2) 171940(33.5) 128790(22.4) 105233(37.1) 76772(33.2) Balance of Trade: Rs crore -46525 -331907 -327085 -478047 -518202 -533680 -356449 -268727 -203991 -125725 US $ mn -9767 -73461 -71119 -104827 -109621 -118401 -88522 -59388 -46075 -27981 * Provisional figures. Variation Over Foreign Exchange Reserves (excluding 11 Nov 12 Nov 31 Mar Fiscal Year So Far Full Fiscal Year gold but including revaluation effects) 2011 2010 2011 Month Ago Year Ago 2011-12 2010-11 2010-11 2009-10 2008-09 2007-08 2006-07 Rs crore 1432060 1226018 1245284 27694 206042 186776 53772 73038 -57826 33975 359500 189270 US $ mn 284817 274646 278899 -1380 10171 5918 14955 19208 18264 -57821 107324 46816 Figures in brackets are percentage variations over the specified or over the comparable period of the previous year. (–) not relevant. [Comprehensive current economic statistics with regular weekly updates, as also the thematic notes and Special Statistics series, are available on our website: http://www.epwrf.in]. Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvi no 49
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december 3, 2011 vol xlvI no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
2000
2011
Human Development Index Life Expectancy Mean Years of Expected Years GNI Per Capita at Birth (Years) Schooling (Years) of Schooling (Constant 2005 (Years) ppp $) 2011 2011 2011 2011
World Australia United States Canada Germany Japan France Italy United Kingdom Chile Argentina Mexico Brazil Egypt Saudi Arabia Kuwait United Arab Emirates Russian Federation Mauritius Turkey Thailand Maldives Singapore Philippines Indonesia Vietnam Malaysia Hong Kong, China (SAR) Korea (Republic of) China India Sri Lanka Pakistan Bangladesh Myanmar Nepal
0.634 0.906 0.897 0.879 0.864 0.868 0.846 0.825 0.833 0.749 0.749 0.718 0.665 0.585 0.726 0.754 0.753 0.691 0.672 0.634 0.626 0.576 0.801 0.602 0.543 0.528 0.705 0.824 0.830 0.588 0.461 0.633 0.436 0.422 0.380 0.398
0.682 0.929 0.910 0.908 0.905 0.901 0.884 0.874 0.863 0.805 0.797 0.770 0.718 0.644 0.770 0.760 0.846 0.755 0.728 0.699 0.682 0.661 0.866 0.644 0.617 0.593 0.761 0.898 0.897 0.687 0.547 0.691 0.504 0.500 0.483 0.458
(2) (3) (6) (9) (12) (20) (24) (28) (44) (45) (57) (84) (113) (56) (63) (30) (66) (77) (92) (103) (109) (26) (112) (124) (128) (61) (13) (15) (101) (134) (97) (145) (146) (149) (157)
69.8 81.9 78.5 81.0 80.4 83.4 81.5 81.9 80.2 79.1 75.9 77.0 73.5 73.2 73.9 74.6 76.5 68.8 73.4 74.0 74.1 76.8 81.1 68.7 69.4 75.2 74.2 82.8 80.6 73.5 65.4 74.9 65.4 68.9 65.2 68.8
7.4 12.0 12.4 12.1 12.2 11.6 10.6 10.1 9.3 9.7 9.3 8.5 7.2 6.4 7.8 6.1 9.3 9.8 7.2 6.5 6.6 5.8 8.8 8.9 5.8 5.5 9.5 10.0 11.6 7.5 4.4 8.2 4.9 4.8 4.0 3.2
11.3 18.0 16.0 16.0 15.9 15.1 16.1 16.3 16.1 14.7 15.8 13.9 13.8 11.0 13.7 12.3 13.3 14.1 13.6 11.8 12.3 12.4 14.4 11.9 13.2 10.4 12.6 15.7 16.9 11.6 10.3 12.7 6.9 8.1 9.2 8.8
10082 34431 43017 35166 34854 32295 30462 26484 33296 13329 14527 13245 10162 5269 23274 47926 59993 14561 12918 12246 7694 5276 52569 3478 3716 2805 13685 44805 28230 7476 3468 4943 2550 1529 1535 1160
2011
Maternal Mortality Ratio 2011
0.492 0.136 0.299 0.140 0.085 0.123 0.106 0.124 0.209 0.374 0.372 0.448 0.449 .. 0.646 0.229 0.234 0.338 0.353 0.443 0.382 0.320 0.086 0.427 0.505 0.305 0.286 .. 0.111 0.209 0.617 0.419 0.573 0.550 0.492 0.558
(18) (47) (20) (7) (14) (10) (15) (34) (68) (67) (79) (80) .. (135) (37) (38) (59) (63) (77) (69) (52) (8) (75) (100) (48) (43) .. (11) (35) (129) (74) (115) (112) (96) (113)
176 8 24 12 7 6 8 5 12 26 70 85 58 82 24 9 10 39 36 23 48 37 9 94 240 56 31 .. 18 38 230 39 260 340 240 380
Gender Inequality Index Population Per-Capita Population with at Least Secondary Labour Force Participation Below Income Carbon Dioxide Education (% Ages 25 and Older) Rate (%) Poverty Line Emissions Female Male Female Male (ppp $1.25 a day (%)) (tonnes) 2011 2011 2011 2011 2000-2009 2008
50.8 95.1 95.3 92.3 91.3 80.0 79.6 67.8 68.8 67.3 57.0 55.8 48.8 43.4 50.3 52.2 76.9 90.6 45.2 27.1 25.6 31.3 57.3 65.9 24.2 24.7 66.0 67.3 79.4 54.8 26.6 56.0 23.5 30.8 17.6 17.9
61.7 97.2 94.5 92.7 92.8 82.3 84.6 78.9 67.8 69.8 54.9 61.9 46.3 59.3 57.9 43.9 77.3 95.6 52.9 46.7 33.7 37.3 64.7 63.7 31.1 28.0 72.8 71.0 91.7 70.4 50.4 57.6 46.8 39.3 63.1 39.9
51.5 58.4 58.4 62.7 53.1 47.9 50.5 38.4 55.3 41.8 52.4 43.2 60.1 22.4 21.2 45.4 41.9 57.5 40.8 24.0 65.5 57.1 53.7 49.2 52.0 68.0 44.4 52.2 50.1 67.4 32.8 34.2 21.7 58.7 85.1 63.3
78.0 72.2 71.9 73.0 66.8 71.8 62.2 60.6 69.5 73.4 78.4 80.3 81.9 75.3 79.8 82.5 92.1 69.2 74.8 69.6 80.7 77.0 75.6 78.5 86.0 76.0 79.2 68.9 72.0 79.7 81.1 75.1 84.9 82.5 41.0 80.3
.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 0.8 0.9 3.4 3.8 2.0 .. .. .. 0.0 .. 2.7 10.8 1.5 .. 22.6 18.7 13.1 0.0 .. .. 15.9 41.6 7.0 22.6 49.6 .. 55.1
4.4 19.0 17.3 16.4 9.6 9.5 6.1 7.5 8.5 4.4 4.8 4.4 2.1 2.6 17.2 26.3 34.6 12.1 3.1 3.9 4.3 3.0 7.0 0.9 4.8 1.5 4.7 5.5 10.6 5.2 1.5 0.6 0.9 0.3 0.3 0.1
(i) Term Human Development Index Definition: A composite index that measures a country’s average achievements in three basic aspects of human development: longevity, knowledge, and a decent standard of living. Longevity is measured by life expectancy at birth; knowledge is measured by a combination of the adult literacy rate and the combined primary, secondary, and tertiary gross enrolment ratio; and standard of living is measured by GNI per capita. The Human Development Index (HDI), reported in the Human Development Report of the United Nations, is an indication of where a country is development wise. The index can take value between 0 and 1. Countries with an index over 0.800 are part of the High Human Development group. Between 0.500 and 0.800, countries are part of the Medium Human Development group and below 0.500 they are part of the Low Human Development group. (ii) Mean years of schooling is the average number of years of education received by people of ages 25 and older converted from education attainment levels using official duration of each level. (iii) Expected years of schooling is the number of years of schooling that a child of school entrance age can expect to receive if prevailing patterns of age-specific enrolment rates persist throughout the child’s life. (iv) Gender Inequality Index is a composite measure reflecting inequality in achievements between women and men in three dimensions: reproductive health, empowerment and the labour market. (v) Population below ppp $1.25 a day – Percentage of the population living below the international poverty line $1.25 (in purchasing power parity terms) a day. (vi) Figures in brackets are country ranking and it is out of 187 countries. Source: Human Development Report 2011.
STATISTICS
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Select Social Indicators from Human Development Index
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Media Not Above Scrutiny
N
otwithstanding the protestations of the electronic media, justice Katju’s opinion of the media and journalists is not an off-the-cuff remark. Much of what he has said is just an understatement. Today, the media stands discredited in the eyes of informed viewers due to paid or sponsored news, the trials by media, non-stop coverage of highly sensitive/ explosive news, and the disappearance of any line of demarcation between news and views. Shaping public opinion through news reporting has now degenerated into manipulation of public opinion by “views reporting”. This is mostly due to the close umbilical nexus that exists between business, politics and the media. A powerful source of mass communication like the electronic media should never be thus left unregulated. In a democracy no individual or institution, howsoever high, should be above scrutiny or regulation. Ways and means must be found to mend the situation which otherwise is likely to cause irreparable damages to the body politic of Indian democracy through distortion of reality.
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the state of the world than the school budget that luminaries would line up to praise a place with conditions at best Dickensian: squalid dorms where 30-40 share a room, meals of monotonous rice and dal taken on floor”. On the self-proclaimed founder of the institute, Achyuta Samanta, he writes, “Achyuta Samanta is calm and beatific, dressed in blue jeans and sandals, seeming to accomplish everything by doing nothing”. But he mentions that his “new aim is to educate 2,00,000 adivasis by the end of this decade”. Being overwhelmed by the warm welcome and public relations exercise by Samanta, he writes, “if Samanta is half as good at teaching as he is at warm welcomes and pr [public relations] then his ever expanding legions will turn out fine”. He finds Samanta “at great pains to show his humble lifestyle in a small rented house… despite the expanding land he has acquired for his campus”. Yet in the Orissa Plus supplement of The Statesman (11 November 2011) appears a report “Time Magazine Praises KISS” replete with phrases like “highly lauded by Time magazine of the USA” and “showered praises on the founder Dr A Samanta”.
Distorting Reality
A
propos your editorial “Turning the Spotlight on the Media” (EPW, 12 November 2011), I would like to give an example of reporting that would vindicate either justice Katju’s low opinion of the intellectual capabilities of our journalists or your concern about the business-media nexus that distorts the reality. John Krich is a well-known travel writer who visited Kalinga Institute of Social Science (KISS), Bhubaneswar, after nagging entreaties by a KISS official for over a year. He wrote of this visit under the title “Children of a Lesser God” in Time magazine (7 November 2011). He says in it, “I gave in – moved to accept by a mix of compassion, foolhardiness and unabashed flattery”. On the living condition of the inmates of KISS and those who praise KISS, he writes “it seemed more a comment on
V
inay Lal, in his excellent review of the status of world history studies (“World History and Its Politics”, EPW, 12 November 2011) begins optimistically with advocacy, but ends pessimistically with its inefficacy. There is undoubtedly confusion between the history of dominant empires and of extant civilisations. Taking into account the conjuncture in which studies of history were conducted, Greco-Roman and Judaic dominance prevailed, Islamic studies coming next. However, the contributions of savants such as Max Mueller, H G Wells and Arnold Toynbee cannot be underrated. There have, indeed, been more civilisations than cited by the author, such as Mali in Africa, and the Maya, Inca and Aztec in Latin America. One could suggest that the upcoming Nalanda University take up the theme suggested by Lal. The difficulty is
december 3, 2011 vol xlvI no 49 EPW Economic & Political Weekly
LETTERS
that most of the source material will be in Sanskrit and Pali for which probably there are more scholars in the US and the west than in India and China! Furthermore, the academic culture and acumen in India is disappointing if, for instance, we consider the reaction of the Academic Council of Delhi University to A K Ramanujan’s essay on the many Ramayanas. Nevertheless, Amartya Sen is proposed to be in charge of Nalanda University and could possibly mobilise the required resources and make the effort. S Nanjundan New Delhi
Revisiting Jangalmahal
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our editorial, “Jangalmahal: Receding Prospects of Dialogue” (EPW, 12 November 2011) is an apt narration of the state of affairs. We have arrived at the stage of writing the obituary of the dialogue initiated by the Mamata Banerjeeled government with the Maoists through interlocutors. To put it in the words of human rights activist, Sujato Bhadra, who had been leading the team of interlocutors, “The peace process has collapsed. The current situation appears bleak and it is tough to continue with our job. While the Maoists killed two Trinamool Congress workers in Purulia on Monday (14 November), the combined forces replied by taking out two Maoist cadres in an encounter the day after.” The combined forces have planned to start long-term search operations in the rebel terrain. The person who is entrusted to lead the fight against the Maoists in Jangalmahal is Manoj Verma, former superintendent of police (SP) in Paschim Medinipur. He has come back to action as the SP of the Counter-Insurgency Force. Under Verma’s leadership many atrocities were committed on the people under the Left Front regime. It is ironic that before coming to power Mamata Banerjee complained to the central government against Verma and demanded his removal. She once stated, “He is the source of evil and leader of Harmads. Peace will not return to Jangalmahal without his removal.” In fact, Verma was removed from his previous assignment after the Mamata-led government
came to power. His recent assignment as the head of counter-insurgency operations is very likely to tarnish Mamata Banerjee’s image among the ordinary people in Jangalmahal, who played a significant role in the political change in West Bengal. After the present interlocutors expressed their intention to step down from their role, the chief minister asked the CPI(M) to rise above narrow politics and help her in her efforts to weed out the Maoists. The interesting part of the story is that in response to Mamata’s appeal, the leader of the opposition, Surjya Kanta Mishra, was quick to offer himself as a mediator “if the centre and the state – not to exclude the Maoists – agree”. This development hints at a new political equation in West Bengal. Arup Kumar Sen Kolkata
Gandhi vs Ambedkar
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his refers to Sudhir Chandra’s article, “Gandhi’s Twin Fasts and the Possi bility of Non-violence” (EPW, 4 June 2011). Chandra argues that the fasts ended tragically as they failed to alter the attitudes of caste Hindus towards the depressed classes. Part of the failure lay in their being religiously guided and part of it lay in Gandhi’s belief that social ills could be corrected through moral persuasion. The fasts failed to deal effectively with the pernicious system of untouchability which had become part of the Hindu psyche. The first fast was, more or less, political in nature, although some found a subtle political agenda in the second fast too. Most people viewed the second fast as “needless dissipation of political energies and an unnecessary digression from the struggle for freedom”. Whatever little success Gandhi’s first fast achieved, Chandra writes, was not the success of non-violence. Gandhi was apprehensive of the desired change in the attitude of caste Hindus after the first fast. Therefore, he decided to fast a second time as penance or selfpurification. But the orthodox Hindus had not changed. I believe that right from the time Gandhi dithered over his support to the Vaikom Satyagraha through the
Economic & Political Weekly EPW december 3, 2011 vol xlvI no 49
Round Table Conference to the first fast he had been debating within himself how to deal with this cancer of Hindu society. As Ambedkar said, Gandhi wanted to uplift the depressed classes by giving them equal rights but he still wanted to retain the caste (varna) system. Joseph Lelyveld in his book Great Soul, Mahatma Gandhi and His Struggle with India records a conversation Gandhi had with Indanturuttil Nambiatiri, the leader of the orthodox brahmins at the Shiva temple, Vaikom. Nambiatiri forced Gandhi to admit that untouchables are what they are because of their misdeeds in previous lives. When Gandhi parried that it did not give the high caste a right to do the punishing, Nambiatiri answered “We believe it is the ordinance of God”. Ambedkar, on the other hand, was categorical when he stated that it was not possible to break caste without annihilating the religious notion on which it was founded. In his essay, Annihilation of Caste, he was forthright in his denunciation of religious support to caste. The conference was cancelled because Ambedkar refused to expunge portions referring to the scriptural support to caste. He wrote Caste may lead to conduct so gross as to be called man’s inhumanity to man. All the same, it must be recognised that the Hindus observe caste not because they are inhuman or wrong-headed. They observe caste because they are deeply religious….The reformers working for the removal of untouchability, including Mahatma Gandhi, do not seem to realise that the acts of the people are merely the results of their belief inculcated upon their minds by the shastras and that people will not change their conduct until they cease to believe in the sanctity of the shastras on which their conduct is founded (1979: 68).
What Ambedkar meant was that the Hindus must destroy the sacredness and divinity with which caste has been invested. Ambedkar was quick to explain that it was not a question of undermining the authority of the shastras; in fact, it was a question of undermining the authority with which caste is invested like Buddha and Nanak did. He wanted Hindus to reject the sacredness of caste. It required a radical change in the Hindus. Gandhi was not willing to go that far. S D Kapoor Jodhpur, Rajasthan
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